Just George
by averagemuggle
Summary: George Weasley falls into a deep depression after Fred dies. A depression he doesn't see himself ever leaving. Until Peach steps into his life. A George WeasleyOriginal Character Romance.
1. Where ever our feet take us

At the sound of Voldemort's voice, the Death Eater George Weasley had been fighting disappeared. His bangs were soaked with sweat and his throat was dry and scratchy. He was exhausted and more than anything he wanted to lie down and catch his breath. But they'd been given only one hour and people lay on the floor among the dead bodies, moaning in agony.

"Mind giving me a hand?"

George turned, startled, a seventh year was supporting one of her fellow classmates who was barely conscious; he was covered in deep gashes. George slung one of his arms over one shoulder and the boy groaned in pain.

"It's gonna be alright mate." George assured him, "In fact, I'd call you one of the lucky ones! All you've gotta do now is lie in a hospital bed in complete agony while the rest of us spend the next hour carrying courageous blokes like yourself up to hospital wing and then fight _more _Death Eaters!"

The girl helping smiled, "I don't think now's the best time to be making jokes."

"There's never a bad to be making jokes! If they don't brighten the mood, they piss off your little sister, and that's always fun to watch."

She let out a small laugh, "I'm Lucy"

"George."

They smiled and continued hauling the boy across the floor. Suddenly, George saw a head of flaming red Weasley hair round the corner, he stopped, turned his head, saw George and began running straight for him.

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The figure had hair as bright as Georges. He ran towards them like there was no tomorrow. Lucy wondered if they should get out of his way. But right when he was about to collide with them, he stopped. He looked a lot like George, but a few years older. His face was red, puffy, and wet with tears. Rage, grief, confusion, and overall shock filled his face. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He just stared at George, eyes wide.

"What cat's got your tongue, Percy?" George asked.

A squeaky sound came from his mouth followed by a wave of fractured sentences. "I don't know what happened…couldn't believe…joking…got distracted…flash…gone."

"What are you talking about, Perce?" George asked, concern in his voice.

Percy took in a deep breathe before shakily saying, "Fred…"

The color from George's face drained. Horror flashed in his eyes. Lucy thought she could see his heart breaking in his eyes. George opened his mouth; no sound emerged for a few moments. Time stopped, Lucy dared not breathe, she waited for him to say something, anything. When he did, it was a pile of questions, "What happened? He's ok? Where is he?"

Percy just stood there, gestured George to follow him, and began running. George shot after him like a bullet. Leaving Lucy to carry her classmate across the hall by herself. She didn't get very far before she heard a deafening scream.

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"NO WAY! NO WAY!"

Harry stood at a distance away from the Weasleys. He heard George scream for his brother to snap out of it, while clinging to his body. He saw Ginny supporting Ron with her shaking body. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley lying beside the body of their son, sobbing. He felt their pain. A tear ran down his cheek before he continued walking towards Dumbledore's office.

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George wrapped his arms around his twin's body. "NO WAY! NO WAY!" George screamed. Fred gone. It couldn't be. Fred was his business partner, his best friend, his brother. They were Fred and George. They were never apart. How was he supposed to live without him?

Eventually, the rest of the family left Fred's body to go and help. George hardly noticed. In the background he heard people moaning in agony, others were crying, every now and then he would hear panicked voices asking about Harry. All he could think about was his brother. He didn't know how long he'd been there when Percy desperately pulled him to his feet, "Harry's disappeared and they're gonna be back in five minutes! You've got to pull yourself together and fight, now!"

George didn't respond.

"What would Fred want!?" Percy demanded.

George knew Fred would've wanted him to keep fighting. Fred had died helping to defeat Voldemort. Fred would not die in vain.

He picked up Fred's lifeless body and carried it to a room filled with the bodies of those who had died fighting for the freedom of the wizarding world. For a moment, just a moment, George's grief was overshadowed with a sense of pride for his brother. He had died a hero.

Minutes later, George stood among the others, wands at the ready. Waiting. Waiting for the Death Eaters to return. Waiting for chaos to once again take place. But it never came. Instead, when the castle door's opened, a large figure emergered, no doubt it was Hagrid. Beside him was Voldemort, Death Eaters followed behind them. George's eyes dropped to Hagrid's arms, he caught a glimpse of raven black hair. It hit George like a rock. Harry was dead. In that moment, all hope left George. Everything went into a blur after that. Voldemort's voice rang through the hall, followed by cries of anger, grief, shock, and overall helplessness. He heard Ron, Hermione, and Ginny drown everyone out with their cries for Harry. A circle formed around Voldemort and the body. In his confusion, he just stood and stared, he wanted to fight back, but it was like he was in a dream, he had no control over what he did. His tongue was in a knot, his feet were lead bricks, his eyes and ears only took in half of what was going on. He saw the flaming red hair of his sister fly across the room and onto Harry's lifeless body, her hair mixed in with flames that emerged atop someone's head. Voldemort's voiced droned on. George heard nothing of it. He heard someone shout something about the body disappearing. The next thing he knew, chaos had once again ensued. With a limited sense of his surroundings, George shot every hex he knew at every dark figure he saw. He let his rage overtake him. He fought with a passion he didn't know he had in him. Every breathe, every drop of sweat, every hex, it was all for Fred. Out of nowhere, a cheer erupted in the crowd and any Death Eater still breathing disappeared. It took a moment for George to realize what had happened. He let a small laugh escape him. It was over.

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Ron walked down the tower staircase close behind Harry. He searched the room and found his family sitting at a table. Everyone leaning on each other. There was only one person he didn't see. He slipped in beside Ginny, who was resting her head on her mother's shoulder.

"Where's George?" he whispered.

"He went to see the body" she replied.

Ron and Hermione sat at the table holding each other and crying. It seemed like hours before he heard his mother clear her throat and, in a shaky voice, tell Ginny to get her brother.

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The cheers of people celebrating rang in his ears. George took no notice. He just stood there. Staring at Fred's body. His eyes were closed and his mouth remained a thin line, no longer bearing the smile it usually did. George's head swarmed with thoughts. He didn't know what he was going to do now. He and Fred had only ever worked together. Neither of them had ever completed a project without the other's help. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there when his sister's hand wrapped around his wrist and they apparated to the Burrow.

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The funeral was two days later. Hogwarts repair hadn't even started yet. This was more important. It was beautiful. Fred's body lay among hundreds of others beside the Hogwarts lake. Each grave was marked with a white marble gravestone. In front of the graves stood a great statue of a phoenix with its wings outstretched. Etched on the square base were the names of everyone who had died in the battle. Thousands sat in front of the stage listening to Minister Shacklebolt give his speech, followed by Professor McGonagall. Both speeches were met and ended with enthusiastic applause, but when Harry marched on to the stage, the crowd's reaction was deafening. George quickly noticed that Harry wasn't gifted with public speeches, but his was definitely the best. He provided no details about his doings the past year except that he couldn't have done it without Ron and Hermione, he told of how proud he was of everyone's bravery, and that if it weren't for the help of everyone at the battle, Voldemort would still be at large. Not one person flinched when Harry stated the dark wizard's name.

The ceremony followed with a lovely reception. Friends and family sat at tables, offering each other condolences. Through all the tears, people began gathering towards one table in particular. A table occupied mostly by red heads. Through the tears, laughter could be heard at stories of pranks pulled by one of the deceased. Eventually, other happy stories were told of other deceased people. A great amount of pain was ceased that day for all. Well, almost. Through the laughter, George sat, staring blankly into space, not knowing what to feel.

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George didn't know how much time had gone by since Fred's death. For him, there was no day or night, no hours or minutes, no yesterdays or tomorrows, there was just moment after moment, each one the same. The Burrow was quiet. The whole family was there, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ginny Ron, Mum, and Dad. At first none of them left the house. They sat and talked about Fred, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. Other than that, nothing. You ate when you were hungry, you slept when you were tired, you washed clothes when there was nothing to wear. Slowly the routine altered slightly. They started eating together, friends visited them, and they visited friends. Still, to George, without Fred, life was a blur. He found himself falling into an endless pit of despair. Everything around him reminded him of Fred, sleep was no escape, his dreams haunted him with Fred's dead eyes. The dead eyes that no matter how funny a joke you cracked, they wouldn't laugh back. He often left the Burrow and walked wherever his feet would take him. One crisp morning he found himself sitting at a bus stop, watching people pass him. He sat a state somewhere between awake and asleep. Then, out of nowhere, he noticed something. It wasn't the sudden cool breeze or the flash of light that came out of nowhere, it was the voice that followed.

"Sorry if that startled you, but I couldn't let that moment slip," the voice was childlike and loud, but George never thought he had heard a more beautiful sound in his life. He looked up to find a young woman. She looked to be about his age, Her hair and eyes were dark brown, her skin fair and flawless. She looked like she could be a goddess, but her baggy jeans and dark paint covered sweatshirt through of the effect. He found himself suddenly alert, something he hadn't felt since Fred's death. And the sudden lurch back into the real world startled him, he found himself lost for words. The young woman saw this and attempted to yet again explain her actions. "My name's Peach. I'm an artist. I take pictures of whatever inspires me and go home and paint them. You inspired me."

George hadn't spoken in months. Not to anyone, no matter what they said, he had no desire for conversation. But she gave him desire. Taking notice of the camera dangling from her neck, he pieced together the events that had just taken place and responded. "I thought photographers didn't talk to their subjects," he realized his voice didn't have the spark it used to, or the confidence.

She smiled. Her smile was warm and full, "I told you, I'm an artist. I find I can put more feeling into my paintings if I know who I'm painting."

"So you think by chit chatting with me for a few minutes will help you know me?" George hadn't wanted to sound cross, but he could hear a hint of anger in his voice.

Peach seemed a little startled at first, fear flashed in her eyes, but they were quickly replaced with smugness, "Good point," she said, "Why don't we go on a walk. I can tell I'm going to like you. And I'm sure you'll find I'm very loveable."

George wanted to be alone. He had wanted to be alone ever since Fred was gone. He had been alone ever since Fred was gone. But something inside him screamed to go with Peach, to walk with her, to learn about her. He liked talking with her. She stood up. Without thinking, he stood up with her. She smiled at him and he asked, "Where do you want to go?"

Her smile grew wider, "Wherever our feet take us.


	2. Hogwarts, hog warts, and pig zits

There were only three steps that were filled with awkward silence. Peach was gifted in conversation with strangers.

"I've never met a George who fit his name." was the first thing she said.

"What?" George asked, confused.

"You know," she said, "People's names sometimes suit them and sometimes they don't, every George I've ever met didn't look like a George."

"What about me?" asked George.

"You're asking a lot of questions," it was a statement. A plain statement, but the way she said it made George smile. She was just naturally funny. "I thought the point of this walk was to find out about you." She continued.

"OK then, shoot."

She paused, a glitter in her eye, "Alright then, tell me something about yourself…where did you go to school."

"Hogwarts."

She laughed, "Pig zits"

"What?"

"What?"

"I said what first."

"You said hog warts. Is that you're word for doesn't matter or something?"

George took in what she said, absorbed it, sorted it in his brain, and concluded that Peach was a muggle. He had never talked to a muggle before, but all of his brothers and Ginny had been given the same advice if they should be asked that question. "I was home schooled."

"Really? I went to a private school. I absolutely hated it. You had to be so well behaved and perfect."

"And now we're back on the subject of you." George secretly hoped they could stay on that subject. He didn't want to lie to someone who he enjoyed talking to so much.

"What can I say, I love talking about myself, I'm a very interesting person."

Relieved, George smiled, "I have to say, I've never met anyone named after a fruit."

Peach smiled, "Peaches are my mum's favorite food, when she was pregnant with me, every time she tried to eat one, she'd puke. So, she was denied them for nine months. After the labor, when the doctors asked what my name was, she was practically asleep from exhaustion, she just mumbled, _peach._"

George laughed, it wasn't a hilarious story, it was an unusual story. But Peach made it funny.

She went on, "I think I knew what I was doing when I forced the peaches back up her throat. Apparently she was going to name me Janet."

At this George was shaking with laughter. He couldn't help himself; everything she said was just funny. Peach went on to tell the story of her life, the pranks she had pulled at her boarding school, the 2 years she had spent at law school, and the trip she had taken across Europe, the trip that had inspired her to ditch law school and become an artist.

"Why did you ditch law school?" George asked after she had finished.

"It just wasn't for me. It was like; everyone but myself had planned my whole life out for me. And when I was in Europe, and I would look at a piece of art by an unknown artist, or an ancient building that so many unknown people had built, I just realized, it didn't matter that they weren't successful, they fulfilled their own dreams, and they left behind pieces of history. So, I quit school and looked for my passion, that's how I found art." Finished Peach.

"Well…yeah…but…don't lawyers make loads of money? Why didn't you just paint on the side?" asked George.

"I thought about that, but law just bored me out of my wits and it just took up so much of my life." Said Peach.

"You're right, you know, you really are an interesting person." Said George.

Peach smiled shyly, it was the first time George had seen her do something in a shy manner. But in an instant, she overcame it and asked, "So, tell me, what do you do?"

George was about to tell her he ran a joke shop, but then stopped, when was the last time he'd been to the shop? Had something happened to it? Had he been gone from it so long it had been forgotten?

"I own a joke shop, but I've taken a break from it for…" he didn't know how long it had been "…awhile" he finished.

"Oh, why?" asked Peach.

"Uh, my twin brother recently died." George mumbled it.

But Peach heard perfectly and gasped, "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks."

The next few seconds were quiet and awkward. Then Peach spoke up, "I always wanted a twin, or even a sibling. Was it cool?"

George smiled, "It was the coolest. We pulled some of the most terrible pranks on our siblings."

"There's more of you?!"

"Yeah, one little sister, one little brother, and four older brothers, well three now, Fred was two minutes older than me."

"Oh,"

George could tell Peach was interested, but also sad about Fred. The next thing George new, he was telling her every prank he and Fred had ever pulled, every type of trouble they had gotten into. Of course they were altered to fit the muggle world, but every now and then he'd let the word 'wand' or 'extendable ear' slip, Peach would look at him, in this menacing and confused way, George found it completely adorable, he would have uttered every magical word he knew just for that stare, but he knew he couldn't. Peach ended up rolling around on the grass, crying with laughter at the story of when George and Fred snuck a dozen 'cockroaches' (his substitute for garden gnomes) into Ron's pillowcase. George also found himself shaking with laughter. It was the first time he had thought about Fred and not been overcome with sadness.

_Beep Beep_

Peach glanced at her wristwatch, "Oh crap," she looked up at him, regret filled her eyes, "I've gotta go, my shift at the coffee house starts in five minutes."

"Oh," George had no idea what a coffee house was. All he knew was that it was ending his time with someone who had made him feel awake, something he hadn't felt since Fred's death.

"So…bye, I guess," she smiled sadly and started walking away from him. Leaving his life as quickly as she had entered it. She was getting smaller, smaller, smaller.

'Hey Peach!" It had just escaped his lips involuntarily, and he was happy it had. She whirled around, looking relieved.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Uh, do you want to do this again sometime?"

She smiled widely, "I'd love to. Same place same time this Saturday?"

"Great"

With that the two separated.

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George felt alive again. He walked around the park with a bounce to his step, a smile on his face for no particular reason. He noticed the shining sun, the bright displays in the stores he passed, the gassy smell of the city. He hadn't felt this good since Fred's death, but there was something else there, something he'd never felt before. It was a type of happiness he'd never felt before.

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"Where's George?" asked Ron. The Weasley family was sitting at the dining room table eating dinner.

"Probably on one of his long walks, he'll turn up eventually." Mumbled Ginny, who just sat and played with her food more than anything else. The Burrow had changed drastically since the war. There were no more explosions coming from Fred and George's room. With no explosions, Mrs. Weasley wasn't busy warning Fred and George to end whatever mischief they were brewing up. Bill and Charlie were constantly worrying about their parents, who were slowly recovering from Fred's death. Percy often felt out of place, it was harder to feel accepted without Fred and George teasing him endlessly. Ron and Ginny just moped around the house. Everyone worried for George. It was bad enough loosing Fred; but even worse, they seemed to be loosing George too. His eyes were as lifeless as Fred's, the sound of his laughter was a fading memory, and they hardly saw him anymore. He just left the house in a dreary mood, and would come back hours later looking even worse.

In the silence the family heard the front door open and closed. George, was the first thought that entered the family's heads. But the footsteps that followed didn't match George's. Well, they had, once. Before Fred's death, George's footsteps had been light and cheerful. After Fred, George's footsteps had become slow and heavy. But now they sounded the way they had used to. George walked past the dining room, a wide grin on his face,

"Hey," he said it casually, like he always had. It was the first word they had heard him utter since Fred. And he said with the cheerfulness he had used to possess.

Seven red heads stared at him with eyes twice as big as Luna Lovegood's. He took no notice, just trotted up to his room.


	3. Dazed and Confused

George's behavior was slowly changing. He didn't talk as often as he had used to. But he would pay attention to what was going on in the house. He noticed how Ginny would often jump at a sudden noise. He noticed how Percy was almost always uncomfortable and silent. He noticed how Ron was always first to the mail when it showed up, he would shuffle through it, desperate for a letter from Hermione. George thought that Peach would love to paint moment after moment in a house with so many intriguing scenes.

The next few days were easier for George. Mainly because he spent most of his time thinking about Peach. He would sit in the living room, listening to a conversation between his brothers, he'd often find his mind slipping back to the image of Peach's eyes and looked deeply into them, of course, to everyone else, it just looked like he was staring deeply into space. He'd remember a joke she'd cracked and he'd find himself giggling. He thought about her smile and would find himself smiling.

Saturday finally came. George apparated to an alley close to the bus stop. It was crowded with people. George couldn't tell whether or not Peach was among them. Like a fool, he began running towards the bus stop. He couldn't help himself, he was so eager to see her again. It wasn't until he saw Peach on the other side of the street that he stopped and tried to act casual. Unfortunately, she did see him, that's when she stopped running and also tried to act casual. They joined at the bus stop.

"Hi," she panted.

"Hey," he half panted, half laughed back.

That was all it took, George and Peach found themselves swooped into a fun and interesting conversation about different forms of greeting, which led to a conversation about fun experiences with friends, which led to a race through a park. It seemed the world would end before they ran out of things to talk about, when Peach pointed that out, they found themselves captivated in a giggling fit over theories of the world ending. There was nothing funny about the subject, the subject was actually rather depressing, but Peach and George somehow made it fun. They walked and talked and ran and laughed for hours. Peach told George everything about her artwork and even let him take a few pictures with her expensive camera. It was nearly dark before Peach realized they'd wandered so far that she'd have to take the bus to get to her apartment before midnight. George walked with her to the bus stop and made plans to meet on Tuesday before the bus doors slammed shut between them. George found himself doing something he'd never done before; he watched the bus until it was out of his sight. Then he apparated back to the Burrow.

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Peach sat in back of the bus; she looked out the window to catch one last glimpse of George, only to see that he just stood there, watching the bus, watching her. She smiled. She felt that Tuesday wouldn't come soon enough.

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Tuesday came and went. Peach and George met again and chattered away happily. Their meetings became more and more frequent until they saw each other everyday. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes the whole day. They went everywhere, they hung out in malls, coffee shops (which George found were actually quite fun), parks, and movies. George learned more and more about life as a muggle, he found it rather odd and often unpleasant. There were very few things about the muggle world that he enjoyed. But it didn't matter, as long as Peach in it he'd be fine with it. He would walk through fire to be with her.

George had never met someone like Peach. She was one of the most open people he'd ever met. If George looked away from her for a second, he'd turn around to find her chatting away with some complete stranger. Everyone she talked to liked her immediately. But George noticed that she would talk to them, laugh, and then say something along the lines of "Okay I've gotta go, hopefully we'll cross paths again!" George wondered why she hadn't done that with him after he'd pretty much snapped at her when they first met. Peach lived by her own rules, she didn't have a clothing style, she just wore what she liked; she didn't listen to music that everyone else liked, she listened to music she liked; and she was never ashamed to laugh. She laughed in a million different ways. Sometimes she'd throw her head back and laugh to the sky, eyes closed and shoulders shaking. Other times she'd bow her head smiling and her shoulders would shake, no sound would emerge until she made squeaky gasps for breathe.

She seemed to glow with energy. And that energy would bounce off of her and onto who ever she talked to.

They talked about everything, some conversations were light and funny, some were dead serious. George couldn't have cared less about what they talked about. As long as he was with Peach, he was happy, he was happy in a way he'd never been happy before. He often talked to her about Fred. He told her about every happy time he'd shared with his twin. When he talked about Fred, sometimes he was happy, sometimes he was sad. But it was easy to talk to her about Fred, it seemed that with every little thing he told her about Fred, George's pain ceased a little bit.

"Do you like poetry?" Peach asked George one day.

"I've never really sat down and read it." George didn't think to ask Peach why she had asked such a random question. Peach said lots of random things. It was just one of the things that made Peach so wonderful, one of the things that made Peach so Peach.

"Oh, well, my friend Antonio's a poet, and he's performing in a slam poetry show tomorrow night. Me and a few of my friends are going to watch, I was wondering if you wanted to come."

"Oh, uuuhhhh, sure." Replied George. Had she just asked him to a meeting with her friends.

Peach seemed a bit worried by George's hesitant response, "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, I just thought it would be cool for you to meet my friends because, you know, you're one of them now and…"

George cut her off, "You consider me one of your friends now?"

Peach stopped walking and looked at him. Her eyes carried a 'duh' look. She smiled and said, "George we've been hanging out for almost three months. We talk about everything, and we talk about it for hours. I like spending time with you. Doesn't that qualify as a friend?"

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The next day passed quickly passed. George spent most of the day in his room, trying to figure out what to wear. He had never heard of a poetry slam and didn't know if it was formal or casual. He ended up wearing a vintage jacket with a plain T-shirt and jeans.

He met Peach at the bus stop like always. Relief overwhelmed him when he found her wearing a tye-dyed shirt.

They arrived at what looked like a darkened coffee house. A small stage sat at one end of the large room, many round tables sat in front of it.

"Peaches! Over here!" someone called.

Peach eagerly grabbed George's wrist and dragged him to a to a table occupied by five people. George hardly had time to respond and nearly tripped several times. When they reach the table, there was no time to talk, Peach immediately began the introduction, "_This_," she pointed to the young woman that had screamed 'peaches', "is my annoying roommate, Tonnie. And _he_," she pointed to a young man in a hoodie and bandana, "is Jensen, don't let the bad boy look scare you, he's a hopeless wannabe. And _there_," she pointed to a young black haired man, "Is my wonderful confidant Jordy. That two headed _thing," _She pointed to a young man and woman holding hands, "is Tyler and Joni, it took us a whole year to get them together, time well spent. Everyone, this is…"

"George!" The entire table finished the sentence.

Tonnie jumped up to shake his hand, "_Finally, _we get to meet you! Peach hasn't shut up about you for three months! It's been driving us nuts!"

Peach flushed at this, "I have not!" The entire table shouted in protest.

"One day, you tell us about some guy you met at a bus stop, and now, every conversation leads to something George said!" screamed Jensen. George didn't get to see Peaches reaction because at that moment, the lights went out and a spotlight fell on the stage. Everyone at the table stood up and started chanting "ANT! ANT! ANT! ANT! ONIO!" as a young man walked onto the stage. Everyone sat down and the man, who George figured was Antonio, spoke into the microphone, "Joni! Did Peach finally bring George?" he called.

"She wasn't overexagerating about the red hair!" Joni called back. Antonio laughed, then he began speaking passionately into the microphone, he spoke english, but it sounded like another language. Antonio finished, everyone applauded, Antonio walked off the stage, another person took his place. Many people performed, George didn't remember any of it, the only part he remembered was during applause when Peach would lean over and whisper "Wasn't that beautiful!"

The last performer walked off the stage, the audience applauded, and the room was yet again dimly lit. The coffee house was soon filled with chatter. Antonio walked over to the table and fell into a vacant chair. "So, so what'd you think?"

"Oh! Oh! That Dillon kid! He was amazing. You've got nothing against him." Peach laughed.

"Shut up," Antonio laughed back. He looked over at George, "So, this must be George, we finally meet."

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The entire group talked late into the night. People only let the table for drinks and the bathroom. Everyone seemed to take an immediate liking to George. He laughed right along with them.

The music in the background changed from a slow jazz song to a fast paced rock song. Peach jumped up "I love this song!" she grabbed George by the wrist, "Come on, dance with me!"

"I really don't know how," George replied.

"No one does anymore, come on!" Peach pulled him onto an open space of floor where many people were already dancing. "No one will even notice us," Peach assured him. She took his hands in hers; George noticed that they were sweaty. "Just let the music move you," said Peach. Her eyes closed, and for a moment they both just stood there, George looked down at Peach, she simply stood there peacefully, then, out of nowhere, she began dancing. Her eyes opened and she began spinning and swaying and shaking and any other movement you could think of, all the while, she never let go of George's hands. She dragged him around the dance floor with him, smiling and laughing, eventually, George found himself dancing along with her, the music played in the background, almost guiding his movements. It flowed from one song to the next, all as one sound.

George didn't even notice when the slow song came on. He didn't notice when he pulled Peach close to him, he didn't notice when she leaned into him and kept in perfect step with him. It just happened. Neither of them noticed until the song was over. The song ended and was replaced with another rock tune. But the music had stopped moving them. If only for a moment, they just stood there and looked into each other's eyes. Dazed and confused. Not sure what had just happened. But the moment ended and the beat of the music took them over.

They danced for a few more songs before returning to the table.

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"Where have you two been?" asked Jordy.

"Dancing, why?" replied Peach.

"You've been gone forever. It's 12:30." Said Joni.

"Oh crap!" said George, "everyone's probably worried about me. I'd better head out."

"Are you sure?" Tyler asked, disappointment in his voice. Peach looked at the whole table, everyone seemed disappointed.

"'Fraid so," said George.

"Oh, well I'll walk you to the bus," offered Peach.

"Don't worry about it," said George, "Well, It's been great meeting you guys, hopefully we can do this again sometime," George smiled and regrettably left the coffee house.

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George was halfway down the sidewalk thinking about the dance he and Peach had shared. He had no idea what had happened. He was so confused about his feelings towards Peach. He thought of Peach as a friend, but he had never felt this way about a friend. He spent every moment he wasn't with her thinking about her. He would lie awake for hours during the night, counting the moments until he would see her again. He had never been this happy about a friend. It scared him, but at the same time he loved this new, strange feeling.

"George! Wait!"

George turned around to see Peach running towards him. She stopped when she reached him, "We're hanging out tomorrow, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Of coarse." Said George.

Peach smiled, "Perfect, meet you at the bus stop."

With that, she turned around and walked back into the coffee house.

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Peach reentered the coffee house and sat down with her friends, who were looking rather mischievous.

"_FLIIIIIIIIIIIIRTING!_" sang Jordy.

"Shut up," said Peach.

"No way," said Tyler, "You don't act that way around any of us. Oh God Peach, you _like _him!"

"I do not!" Peach giggled.

"Don't worry Peach, it's pretty obvious he likes you back."

"Shut up," said Peach.

But they didn't. The rest of the night, Peach was surrounded by her friends teasing her. Peach just sat there and blushed. She was just as confused as George.


	4. With My Whole Heart, I Critisize You

The next few weeks were more or less ordinary. Peach spent most of her time with George, as always. Sometimes with her friends and sometimes just the two of them. George was warmly welcomed into her group of friends, but he was unaware of the merciless teasing she suffered after he left. They refused to believe that she was only looking for a friend in George. Normally, Peach would have shaken it off, but she found herself spending hours awake every night, confused with her emotions. She had never felt this way towards a friend. More importantly, she had never befriended someone she met at a bus stop. When she first saw George, and the way he just stared into space, looking so lost; she had found herself drawn to him. She'd had the strangest feeling that if she didn't talk to him, she'd regret it for the rest of her life.

Ever since the dance incident, Peach had noticed the slightest tension between her and George. Their conversations had always flowed effortlessly from one topic to the next, never paused by an uncomfortable silence. But now, every now and then there would be a few moments of awkward silence. It would be shaken of quickly and they would find themselves yet again, flowing from topic to topic. But those few silent moments, Peach held onto every single one of those. She held onto the look in his eyes, a mixture of feelings she'd never seen before, the only feeling she'd recognize was confusion. His eyes reflected perfectly how she was feeling. She wondered if during those moments, she was looking back at him the same way. Peach didn't know what this strange new feeling was, and that scared her, but at the same time, it filled her with a kind of happiness she'd never felt before. George filled her with a kind of happiness she'd never felt before.

--------------------------

"But the point of buses is to carry a number of people, how many people are going on the exact same schedule as you?!"

"Well, lots, obviously, because there are quite a few people on the same bus as you."

"That's because there's only one schedule!"

George laughed at Peach's rebuttal. They had found themselves sitting at a bus stop, imagining what a personal bus system would be like, Peach had detested the idea. George was about to defend his opinion when Peach's bus arrived. The doors opened, making that screeching sound that George so strongly loathed. The cause of his loathing towards the door wasn't the way it made his ears ring, it was the way it signaled that his time with Peach was gone for another day. Peach smiled sadly.

"Same time tomorrow?" George said it more like a statement than a question. The sudden look of doubt in Peach's eyes made George wish he hadn't sounded so confident.

"I won't able to leave my flat tomorrow. I'm working on a painting for this woman, and if she sees me outside enjoying myself instead of working on this painting she'll kill me." Peach said sadly.

"Oh," said George, "Well, the next day?" this time, he asked it like a question.

"Unless you want to come over to my place," Peach said it quickly, as if she hadn't expected the words to shoot out of her mouth.

George himself was a little taken off guard. But he wasn't about to turn down a day with Peach. "That'd be fantastic." He replied.

"Great!" She pulled opened her purse and dug around in it until she pulled out a pen. She grabbed George's hand and scribbled something on it. She released his hand and smiled, "That's my address, see you tomorrow!" With that, she jumped onto the bus and the screeched closed, creating a barrier between them. George watched as the bus drove away and out of his sight. Something he had found himself doing every time him and Peach went their separate ways. It had become a bit of a habit. It didn't seem weird to him anymore. But the fact that it didn't seem weird to him seemed very weird to him.

-----------------

George arrived at Peach's doorstep. He rapped the door twice before the door swung open. Peach stood there, clothes covered in paint, hair tied back loosely in ponytail, and a smear of paint across her nose. "Hey," she smiled widely, "come on in."

George stepped in. George immediately found himself questioning Peach's messy appearance. The flat was spotless. A sofa and a few chairs sat in semi circle in front of a strange black box. A shiny white kitchen stood behind it. Beside the kitchen stood two plain white doors. George would have been blinded by so much white if it hadn't been so well hidden, it seemed that every inch of the flat was covered with artwork. The walls stood covered in paintings, a piece of pottery on every table, and each corner was occupied by a sculpture. Nothing matched, and yet, at the same time, it fit together perfectly. "Wow," breathed George.

Peach blushed, "Thanks."

"Did you make all of this?" asked George.

"Bit's and pieces," answered Peach, "some of it's by me, some of it's by friends. We all trade our artwork. It drives Tonnie crazy, she's more of a modern style admirer."

"Cool," said George.

"Yep," was all Peach said. The next few seconds were silent. "Okay," Peach said after a while, "I've gotta get up to the studio, come on," She grabbed George's wrist and pulled him up a spiral staircase George hadn't noticed. George looked up to see that the stairs led to a loft with sheets hung from the ceiling, acting as walls. Peach pulled back the curtains, revealing a room that was the exact opposite of the rest of the flat. Newspapers littered the floor and the walls were covered with paint. Easels stood in random places all over the small room, each holding an unfinished painting. A table sat against the wall, one end covered in clay sculptures and the other held even more paintings and photographs. A large shelf stood on the wall, holding a wide assortment of painting supplies. A bed sat hidden in the corner almost unnoticeable.

"There aren't enough rooms so my studio also has to be my bedroom," explained Peach, "And because of that Tonnie gets the small room, but even this room doesn't give me quite enough room for all my projects."

George laughed. He looked at some of her paintings, they were only half complete, but they were magnificent. Two toddlers playing in a sandbox, a couple kissing in a park, a group of teenagers walking down the sidewalk laughing. They were different than the paintings George was used to seeing. You couldn't hear them laugh and they didn't turn their heads and look at you every few seconds. They lived in that one moment, completely oblivious to you, to what would happen next. There was something eerie about the stillness of them. But Peach's paintings had a certain radiance about them, it seemed that you could reach into the picture run the sand through your fingers. "These are incredible." Breathed George.

"You're just saying that," laughed Peach.

"No, I'm not. I've never seen anything like them," said George.

"Thanks," said Peach.

George turned to see her sit down at an easel and pick up a paintbrush. She began working on a half finished portrait of an elderly woman.

"I know she looks like a kind old grandmother, but she's one of the most unpleasant, demanding people I've ever met." Said Peach. Referring to he woman in the painting. Peach went on to describe the unpleasant traits of the woman in the portrait. George found himself rolling on the floor laughing at one of Peach's impersonations of the old woman. And on numerous occasions, Peach had to stop painting so she could shake with laughter at one of George's stories about a prank he'd pulled with Fred on unpopular teachers. Peach and George talked for hours about all the people they'd ever met. Many times George would tell a story and get no reaction from Peach. He'd look over and see her painting in a trance-like state. She'd remain that way for many minutes. George didn't mind one bit, he enjoyed watching her so passionately involved in something. She'd eventually snap out of it and wouldn't even try to hide it. She'd just say, "Sorry, Painter Peach took over for a second there. What were you saying?" and George would happily repeat his story and Peach would listen with intense interest.

The hours slipped by. Peach and George didn't notice. They didn't hear the busy traffic outside the building, or the rain pounding on the roof, it was just them. After many short hours, George and Peach were in the middle of a discussion concerning people's influence on their lives when, out of nowhere, Peach thrust her paintbrush on the ground and jumped high in the air, "Finished!" she yelled and punched the air, "I give you the next Mona Lisa!"

Peach turned the easel around so that George could see it. At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary portrait. But something about it intrigued him to look longer, he then saw the hint of playfulness dancing in the eyes, making the painting move, while at the same time, it stayed perfectly still. Only Peach's sweet voice pulled him away from it, "So, whadya think? I absolutely killed me to make her look playful."

"It's amazing," smiled George.

"You know, I think it's better to get constructive criticism so you can improve your work than to get friendly compliments and continue with something you're told is good, but really isn't." said Peach, her voice didn't seem annoyed, it sounded more like she was asking him to insult her work, but there was nothing to insult.

George looked up at her, "Would you like me to belittle this masterpiece?"

Peach sat on the bed beside him, tilting her head to look at her work, "It's just that, all of my friends tell me that I have a gift, but you'd think I'd be able to see my own gift." She muttered.

George jumped up, "You mean you don't see it?!"

"See what?" said Peach surprised.

"You can't see the magnificence of this painting?! It's like, at first glance, it seems like a boring portrait; but then, as you're about to look away, you just can't take your eyes off it. Then, you see it. There's a coldness in her eyes, a coldness so vibrant that it seems she's actually alive, at any moment she'll jump out of the portrait and scold you. But then, you see more, like her eyes are layered, hidden behind the coldness is a pain, an awful pain, and the pain is hiding a small almost unnoticeable laughter that's just barely there. And when you see that laughter, the whole painting comes alive, in the mind's eye she begins to move, and the laughter overcomes her, and you realize that she's beautiful. There's nothing bad about her. Nothing." George spoke with a passion he'd never spoken with before. If Peach was unable to see this small treasure, he would tell her of it. He wanted to explain the feeling, the magic, of the painting until she could feel it through his words.

Peach just sat on the bed, silent. She stared at the painting for many minutes. Her eyes began to brim with tears. She smiled, wiped them away, and let out a small laugh, "No ones ever said it like that before. I mean, I've only ever heard good things about my work, even from some of the toughest judges around. But I've never truly believed it. Until now. No one could tell a lie like that right on the spot. Thanks."

"You deserve it." Said George.

They just smiled at each other. Silent. Just smiling at each other. The silence wasn't awkward or eerie. It felt right.

George didn't know how long he'd been standing there, staring into those eyes. Because in those eyes, he saw something he'd never seen before. At first he saw the laughter in them that was always present. But soon, the laughter was overshadowed, by the look that she would always look at him with whenever they experienced an awkward silence, the look that had reflected perfectly the way he had felt: so many emotions and only one recognizable one, confusion. But the confusion was no longer lingering in her eyes, and in that moment, in that look in her eyes, with the fog of confusion gone, George realized what he'd been feeling. Love. Ever since he'd first met her at the bus stop he had loved her. He just hadn't realized it. The dance. Love had moved him, not the music. Love had made their conversations flow effortlessly from one topic to the next. He loved her. He loved her with all his heart. It had just taken so long for him to realize it.


	5. A Scar In The Making

_How could I have been so stupid? Love! The dancing, the talking, the feeling! Love! Ever since we met. Love! Love! Love!_

Peach couldn't stop thinking the magical word. She loved George Weasley. She loved him with every inch of her being.

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything. Everything about her, everything he already knew. But she wanted to tell him as the girl who loved him. She wanted to tell him she loved him. She wanted to tell him so much.

Then why wasn't she? Why was she just sitting on the bed? Staring at him? Looking into his eyes? She was going to tell him. Now. Now. Now. She couldn't bring herself to do it. She was afraid, something she rarely was. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if she scared him off? What if she never saw him again? She couldn't live with that. She knew, deep down, that she needed him. On some level, she'd known all along.

_No! Don't think like that! You never think like that! Better to have risked and lost than to have been safe and spend your life thinking what if! Tell him! Tell him NOW!!!_

"Want to watch a movie?" she asked.

_Dammit!_

"A movie?" asked George. He said it like he had no idea what a movie was.

"You know, like a book, just no imagination required?" Peach attempted a joke. She was trying as hard as she could to act like the confident person she was.

"Oh, uh, sure," George laughed uneasily. He looked like he wanted to say something more. But he didn't.

------------------

George tried desperately to remember what he'd learned in muggle studies. _Movie, movie, movie. Movie Theater! What does that mean?_

"Youknowlikeabookjustnoimaginationrequired" Peach said it quickly and nervously.

"Oh, uh, sure," George couldn't help but laugh at her quick, inaudible sentence. But he still felt painfully nervous.

"Okay, the TV's in the living room." Peach stood up quickly. She took one fast step and hit an easel. It began to fall over but she quickly grabbed it and set it back safely on its legs. She smiled shyly, something very rare for Peach. She walked out of the room George followed. They walked down the stairs and towards the semi-circle of chairs.

"Make yourself comfortable." Said Peach.

George took a seat on the couch. Peach walked over to the strange black box and opened a drawer under it. Leaning over it she asked, "Whadya want to watch? I've got _Titanic, Knocked Up, The Bourne Identity, How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days…_Oh! Oh! _ET_!!! I haven't seen this in so long! Want to watch that?"

"Sure," shrugged George. All George had heard were a bunch of words that made no sense.

Peach opened a strange rectangular case, taking strange circular object out of it. She put it into a strange little gadget and sat down on the couch beside George.

"Could you hand me the remote?" she asked.

"The what?" Asked George.

"The remote." Said Peach matter-of-factly.

George stared at her confused. Peach let out an exasperated sigh before leaning over him, stretching her arm out and snatching a small rectangular object off the table. She shook it playfully in his face.

"Re-mote." She emphasized each syllable.

"Right." Laughed George.

"Sometimes I think you're from another planet," laughed Peach while she casually pushed down a few small buttons, causing many tiny lights to emerge from the various gadgets in front of them. Out of nowhere a picture appeared on the black box. Causing George to jump. Peach began shaking with laughter.

"You act like you've never seen a TV before," she laughed. George uneasily laughed along with her. Peach pressed more buttons on the 'remote' and the picture changed.

"I love this movie," she whispered.

At first, George watched in awe at this strange object. But after a small pigtailed girl appeared in the pictured and Peach mentioned something about how the little girl was so pretty now, that George began to understand the concept and follow the plot.

-----------------------------------

Peach sat stiffly beside George. Concentrating hard on the movie. She put all her energy into ignoring her feelings towards George. But the whole time her heart pounded in her chest. She considered deep breaths but then remembered George would hear. So she just sat there, uncomfortably, for over an hour. As the movie played Peach relaxed a bit. The story progressed, little Drew Barrymoore screamed at the alien, ET drank too much beer and burped, and then the bike flew. Every single time Peach saw that scene her heart melted.

"I would give anything to fly." Peach whispered.

"Really?" asked George. His voice was stiff, but he still sounded intrigued.

"Yeah. Ever since I was a little girl I've wanted to fly. I would spend hours swinging in my backyard, I'd swing as high as I could get, then I'd jump off and pray that I never touched the ground." A smile tugged at the sides of Peach's mouth, "I remember when I was four, my parents said they were taking me to America, and that we were going to fly there. I was so exited. Of coarse, I didn't realize they meant airplane." Peach laughed a little, "I fell asleep in the car on the way to the airport and I woke up on the plane. I asked my mum where we were, and she told me we were flying. I was so disappointed. I couldn't feel the wind on face and running through my hair. I was in a very large, air-conditioned bus that fle-"

"Hey Peach, I got the grocer-oh! Hey George. What are you doing here?" There was an almost untraceable smugness in Tonnie's voice. And Peach realized that her head was resting softly on George's shoulder. Almost lovingly. She quickly jerked it off and answered,

"We had to hide out in her from The Cruel Granny." Peach answered trying to sound casual.

"Well I doubt you'll run into her now. It's one in the morning." Said Tonnie.

George jumped up, "Are you serious?! I'd better get home, the family's probably worried sick."

"Do you have to go?" Peach found herself conflicted. A part of her felt that she would burst if she spent another moment around the man she had only just realized she loved. But another part of her still wanted to spend every waking moment with him, something she had felt ever since the end of their first meeting.

"Afraid so," answered George, "Want to get coffee tomorrow?"

"Sure, I'll see you where I always do," said Peach.

With that, George got up and walked out of the flat. Peach had wanted to hug him goodbye at the door but didn't have a chance because Tonnie fell onto the couch beside her and began to talk.

"So," she began in a teasing manner, "had him over to your flat did you?"

"Tonnie, please, just quit it." Peach said it seriously.

Tonnie's face immediately went serious. "Oh my god, did something happen?"

"What? No! Nothing like that! I just kind of…figured something out."

A smile grew on Tonnie's face, "You like him! Oh! Finally! It's been excruciating watching you two just…"

"Tonnie!" Peach cut her off, "I think I'm in love with him. Could we please be serious?"

Tonnie was serious again, "You love him?"

"I think I do." Peach paused for a moment before asking, "What do you think? Be completely honest."

"Honestly," started Tonnie, "He's some kind of wizard. I mean, you haven't acted like yourself since...You-Know-What." Tonnie stopped as she saw Peach flinch at Tonnie's mention of what was not to be mentioned, "Peach I'm sorry, I just had to say. Look, after that whole dealio, you just weren't yourself. You were miserable, always tired, and just not the Peachie Pie we all know and love. Even your artwork changed, your paintings were dark and depressing. You were like that for a year. And then, he shows up out of nowhere, and you start to get better. You're happy and energetic and enthusiastic…and your artwork glows like it never did before. He brings out the best in you."

"But I'm not everything I used to be. If I were the old me, I'd just run up to him and tell him exactly how I felt about him without a single worry. And instead, here I am, whining to my best friend."

Tonnie inched closer to Peach and placed her hand on head, "Peach, people change everyday sometimes in a tiny, insignificant way, sometimes in the biggest way possible. But we're still who we are. We can't change that. No matter what horrible or wonderful things happen to us. What happened to you, it changed you. A little for the better, but mostly, or the worse. When George came, he took away all of the bad stuff. And, it's like you never changed at all. The reason you're not running to him is because you're in love. And you've seen and felt what love can do to a person, the way it can make you feel so good and then make you want to crawl into a hole and die. But love isn't always like that. It wouldn't be like that with George. I can tell it would be amazing with George."

Peach stared into space, letting Tonnie's words sink in. And her shoulders began to shake. Tears spilt from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Tonnie gathered Peach in her arms and held her close. She just barely heard Peach's whisper, "I don't want to be scared."

-----------------------

George walked down the pathway. A thousand thoughts swarmed around in his head. Why had he left so abruptly? Obviously, it had been uncomfortable what with his sudden realization of his feelings for Peach. But those feelings only made him want to be with her more. The truth was he had not only felt love that day. Being with someone so passionate about their work had made him remember something he had forgotten about. The conclusion of his evening was the most complicated thing he'd ever thought of, but on paper it was simple. He loved Peach. He loved Peach. He loved Peach. He couldn't get used to thinking it, it felt so right. He loved Peach. He loved Peach and he missed the joke shop.


	6. A Bittersweet Concoction

"I'm going back to the joke shop." George had been thinking about his joke shop for a month. Peach's work had gotten so busy that month that it was either see her at her flat or don't see her at all. He had found himself often just watching Painter Peach instead of talking to Peach Peach. Spending so much time around someone as passionate as her had only increased George's longing for his beloved joke shop. And after much thought, he'd found himself at the dinner table with his family. A scenario which he hadn't been in since Fred's death.

The Weasleys stared at him. Obviously unclear of what to say. Ginny was the first to speak, "Does this mean you'll start eating with us again?"

"Ginny!" his mother scolded loudly.

"He has a point," Ron joined in, "We've all put life on hold to work together through this. Bill and Charlie and Dad have stopped working. Percy hasn't had a chance to think about what he's going to do with himself. And me and Ginny! We've missed so much! We didn't get to help Hermione find her parents, Umbridge almost got away because we weren't at her trial, and now all our friends are at Hogwarts, moving on, while we've stayed behind to be together until we're all ready to move on. And we _are_ all together," Ron had been talking to his mother. But now, he turned to George, "except you. You just disappear and don't come home all day. Sometimes you don't come home until midnight. You don't even try to help us through this and now you've decided to move on while we're still stuck in this rough spot!"

"Well I'm sorry if I'm trying to do what's best for me!" George didn't even think before he said it, it was an automatic response.

"What's best for you? What about what's best for your family?!" Ginny added.

"Exactly!" Ron yelled.

"Don't start thinking I'm on your side!" Ginny shouted at Ron this time, "You just want to leave us and go snog Hermione!"

"Just because I want to doesn't mean I'm about to turn my back on everyone like George has! And at least I've got someone to snog! When were you planning on talking to Harry?!"

"I didn't turn my back on you!" George didn't give Ginny a chance to answer the question Ron had asked.

"So how would you explain what you did to us?!" Ginny demanded.

"Oh, that's mature. You just go ahead and change the subject!" Ron shouted.

"Fine! If you want an answer so bloody badly! I was going to talk to him after the kiss but _someone _decided to interrupt us!" Ginny screamed.

"You know I didn't mean to do that!" Ron's face was a darker red than his hair.

"Well who scared him off from talking to me at the wedding?!" Ginny's face remained skin colored while her ears became a brilliant crimson.

"What kiss!" George's voice could be heard over the bickering sound of his two younger siblings.

"_Now _you're concerned!" Ron shouted sarcastically, "Before Bill's wedding Ginny invited Harry into her bedr-"

"That's none of his business! And it wasn't supposed to be yours either!" Ginny interrupted.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but if someone's been snogging my little sister then it is my business!" All five of Ginny's brother's yelled at the same time.

"Don't you three become a part of th-"

"QUIET!!!" Their mother's scream was followed by complete and awkward silence. Everyone just sat there for a few moments, staring at their plates. It seemed like an eternity and at the same time a brief second before the sound was heard. A quick, squeaky breathe. It would have been untraceable if it hadn't been so quiet. The whole table shifted slightly to look at Charlie Weasley. He had his eyes squeezed tight and his mouth a thin line. When the family looked closer, they could see that his mouth was twitching into a smile and mouse sounds were emerging from it. Then, his mouth grew into a toothy smile and his hunched over shoulders started to shake. He was laughing. He slowly lifted his shaking head and opened his eyes. After a few moments of his odd behavior, Bill began to laugh too. Followed by Ginny. Ron's laughter joined in along with their parents and Percy. Between breaths Charlie gasped the words, "Just…like…old…times."

Laughter continued and George merely smiled. He wanted to laugh with them, he really did. He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Somewhere in all the laughter, tears began to flow down cheeks. George joined in on this. He found himself in the middle of a large family hug. They were all laughing and crying together. They cried for Fred, they cried for the lives they'd put on hold, they cried for each other. George had forgotten how good it felt. To be so close to his family. To be a part of his family.

-----------------

Every single surface was covered with dust. Dull. Grey. Dust. The joke shop no longer held the happy magical feel it used to. The once colorful boxes now were merely a dull grey. It was dark, and depressing. Upon entering, the first action had been immediately taken by Mrs. Weasley, who had walked to the windows and pulled open the drapes. Sunlight had spilt in, illuminating every tiny particle of dust. That dust that danced in the rays of sunlight, and that dust that danced around the Weasley's feet.

"There's no way we'll be able to turn this back into the joke shop,"

George smiled at Ron's comment, "It actually looked worse when we first moved in."

At first the eight red heads stood and stared at the mess before them. After a long silence, Percy stepped forward. He disappeared among the shelves and a light commotion could be heard. There was a loud THUD! and they heard Percy curse quietly. Colorful sparks emerged fro the top of the shelf. More commotion and finally, "Found it!"

Percy emerged, stood before his family, and produced a box from his back. It looked as good as new, as colorful as it had been when it was first made.

"See, there _is _color in this dreadful place." He exclaimed.

Then, the cleaning began. It was slow at first, as no one had a very good idea of where to start. But as the cleaning progressed, everything began to flow effortlessly. Everything else in the world melted away from the family's minds. There was only the joke shop. There was laughter when the Bon BOOM Box Ron had handed her exploded in Ginny's face. There was a scream when Ginny dropped a Build-A-Spider down Ron's shirt. And there were tears when Bill stumbled over one of Fred's inventions-in-progress. The day went on like that. Full of laughter and tears. Laughter at a prank, an unstable invention, a good joke. Memories of Fred flooded back into their minds, happy memories and sad memories, and tears mixed with laughter, a bittersweet concoction of a day.

And when the sunset came, and the dust was illuminated no more by sunlight, but by the soft touch of the moon. They tore a drape and used it as one big blanket. All eight of them slept under it. Like they had when the children were little. They didn't mind the hard floor or the dust in their hair. They were together. A family of eight.

And the night ended and the sun rose and the dust was illuminated by sun once again. The Weasley's, one by one, drifted out of their dreams just as smoothly as they had drifted into them. They lay there, all bundled together, until every single one of them had rubbed the sleep out of their eyes and yawned. And even then, they still lay there. Talking quietly amongst themselves. When the sun rose higher into the sky, and its light poured into their eyes, they emerged from their snug haven.

And the responsibilities of the day crept into them. And the events of the previous day repeated themselves, right back to the moment when they snuggled together under the drape. And the same thing happened the next day, and the next, and the one after that.

Every day they talked more and more about Fred. Mrs. Weasley told the story of when the laundry had been washed in mud and Fred's long speech on how she had no proof that him and George had done it and therefore she couldn't punish them, even after seven years, George still insisted they weren't the culprits. Mr. Weasley recalled Fred giving him the exact same speech when his wand ended up on Fred's pillow. Ron brought up his harrowing experience of Fred and George chasing him on their broomsticks while he could only run, he recalled the two yelling something about muddy laundry. George explained to Ron that it had been their form of payback for mudding the laundry.

"But I didn't do it!" Ron squealed.

That was when Ginny confessed, apparently, she had fed the laundry tub instead of the pigs. Not wanting to face her brothers' teasing, she snatched her father's wand and attempted to change the slop to soap, unfortunately, the best she could do was mud.

"I was going to put the wand back in Dad's coat pocket, but he was wearing it. So I panicked and threw onto Fred's bed." Ginny's long speech was followed by a short silence before the entire family was rolling on the floor with laughter.

More and more memories of Fred were poured into each other's ears. With every story, the family's laughter got a little bit louder and their cheeks a little bit dryer. But as George's cheeks dried more and more, and the laughter inside him got stronger and stronger, it would not emerge from his lips.

-------------------

Jordan Crikk was walking down the streets of Diagon Alley with his mother. This was a daily routine for the young boy. No matter what, every day the two walked down the crowded streets. The rain didn't stop them, the snow didn't stop them, the war hadn't stopped them. Jordan had walked down the Alley every day since the day he was born. He had seen the drastic changes of the war just by walking through the Alley. And he'd seen the Alley recover from the war. And he'd seen one of the greatest cases of irony in his life there. During the war, the Alley had been dark, except for one small joke shop. In a way, the joke shop had been a symbol of hope in a dark time. But when the war ended, and stores were yet again colorful and bright, the joke shop hid behind dark curtains, unopened.

In the early stages of recovering from the war, everyday Jordan would eagerly aim his eyes to the joke shop. Only to find the drapes hanging motionless behind the glass. Checking the window had now simply become a habit of his, he knew the store would be closed, but he checked anyway.

That day, when he looked through the glass, the drapes had been pulled back and a group of red heads ran about the store. Dusting walls, and stocking shelves.

Jordan felt a wave of playfulness engulf him. He felt like a six year old instead of his ten year old self. Eagerly poking his mother, he laughed giddily, "Look! Look! The joke shop! It's coming back! It's coming back!"

---------------------

Tonnie was on the couch, eating yogurt when Peach stormed down the stairs. She merely watched as her friend stomped about the flat. Opening drawers just so she had something to slam shut. She let out an exasperated sigh before plopping down on the couch.

"Where the hell IS HE!"


	7. Absence, Silence, And Remembering

George stood at Peach's door. He had never been more angry with himself. A month and a half. Forty seven days he'd gone without seeing Peach. Even worse, forty seven days ago he had left her, promising to come back the very next day. He hadn't. He'd left without a goodbye. There was no excuse for his absence, well, no good one. He'd gotten carried away and she'd been pushed to the back of his head. He'd hoped the joke shop would put his mind at ease so he could sort out his feelings for her. Instead, he'd forgotten her completely. With a deep breathe, he lifted his fist and knocked. The door opened and Tonnie stood there.

First, her face held the same dull expression anyone had when opening a door. Then, she saw George and her eyes filled with relief and happiness. Of course, George never noticed any of it because it was gone in a flash and all he saw was utter anger.

"What the hell happened to you?" hatred engulfed every single word. George opened his mouth, but Tonnie wasn't finished, "Peach has been a wreck. She's been moping around the house and barely eating because of you. She thought you weren't coming back!" Her face was red and tears were brimming her eyes. George stood there, stunned. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Peach, let alone her roommate.

"I know, I was a complete arse. I just wanna talk to Peach could you get her?" George asked timidly.

Tears streaked Tonnie's cheeks and her voice shook as she spoke, "She's gone, she went back to her parents last week, she said she needed to figure some crap out."

"All this because I didn't come over?" George couldn't imagine Peach as a wreck that had to go to her parent's to figure stuff out. Not his strong Peach.

Tonnie had stopped crying now and was wiping tears from her eyes, "Peach isn't who she used to be, not around me at least. She had an…incident a little over a year ago and she just turned into a whole different person. She used to be so happy and enthusiastic, but after the incident she'd just go on long walks and come home late at night, she was so depressed. And then, one day, out of nowhere, she comes home and she's happy and enthusiastic again, like nothing's changed at all," a smile crept across Tonnie's face as she recalled, "and she won't shut up about this amazing guy she met. And she became Peachie Pie again. You did that to her George, you fixed her." Tears were rolling down Tonnie's cheeks again, "me, Antonio, Joni and Tyler, Jordy, and Jensen; we love Peach so much. It broke our hearts to see her fall so low. We've worked so hard and spent so long trying to make her happy again, and then you come along and with a smile you bring her back. She needs you."

George stood there, his mouth hanging open, "I'm just some depressed guy she picked up off a park bench, she was the one fixing _me_."

Tonnie smiled, "I think you two were fixing eachother."

They just stood there for a few minutes. George tried to absorb everything Tonnie had told him, "What was the incident?" He asked.

Tonnie hesitated before answering, "We all promised her we'd never talk about it again. If anyone should tell you, it's Peach." Tonnie took a deep breathe, "She loves you, you know."

On any other occasion, George would have leapt for joy at this announcement, and on the inside, he did. But he was so disgusted with himself that all he could do was ask, "How do you know?"

"I knew long before she told me, just by the way she looked at you." Tonnie answered. "Do you love her?"

"With every single piece of my soul." George replied truthfully and confidently.

Tonnie was looking deeply into his eyes, making sure he was telling the truth. "If she forgives you, will you see her everyday and keep every promise you make to her?"

"I'll die before I don't"

"If she doesn't forgive you, will you fight until she does?"

"I'll fly her around the globe if that's what it takes."

"Alright then, come in, I'll call her and tell her to come back." Tonnie backed away so George could enter. He walked in, confident but timid. He sat on the couch and watched Tonnie walk over to the 'fone' he'd seen Peach use a few times. Tonnie pushed a few buttons and held the device to her ear. She stood still for a few moments before speaking.

"Hey Mr. Yarin, it's Tonnie, I need to speak to Peach."

Silence again.

"Hey, Peach, listen something's happened over here and you need to get over here as soon as possible."

Silence.

"No, we're all safe, just _please_ get over here."

Silence.

"You're going to have to come and see for yourself."

Silence.

"Trust me, this is worth coming all the way over from Worksop!"

Silence.

"Peach, I swear to god I'll come over there myself and drag you here if that's what it takes."

Silence.

"Fine, I'm on my way."

Tonnie hung up. She looked at George, "She said she's not ready to leave yet."

"Oh," said George, "Were you serious about going there?"

"I would if I had to," said Tonnie.

"But you just said you were going."

"Don't worry, just grab your coat and follow me." Instructed Tonnie, who already had her jacket halfway on and her hand on the doorknob.

George threw his coat on and she was out the door. George found himself jogging to keep up with her. There was a rock in his shoe, his jacket was inside out, and the crisp wind bit his cheeks. Tonnie took no notice. She had a destination and was intent on getting there.

Tonnie led him through the park, past endless coffee shops, and into a train station. She stopped abruptly and George bumped into her.

"I thought you said you weren't going." George stated, although he was perfectly happy to be in a heated building.

"I'm not." Was all she said before taking out a tiny square object. She pushed a few buttons on it and held it up to her ear. Just like a fone. She waited a few moments before speaking, "Hey, Mr. Yarin, it's Tonnie again. Is Peach there?"

More silence.

"Hey! Peach, so, I'm at King's Cross right now. I'm about to get on the train, what's your parents' address again?"

Nothing.

"Ok, then, here's some proof." Tonnie held up the fone and, holding it away from George, pushed another button. Then, she placed it behind her ear again, "that work for ya?"

There was more silence as a look of triumph exploded in Tonnie's eyes.

"Fine, but if you're not over here in twenty eight hours I'm getting on the first train to Worksop and hauling your arse over here."

Tonnie removed the fone from her ear and, smiling, she said, "She's on her way."

-----------------------

The walk back had been silent. Except for when Tonnie complained about the chilly wind.

------------------------

Tonnie opened the door and she George walked in. Tonnie turned to him. "It's gonna take her a over a day to get here. You could just go over to your place and I'll call you when she gets here."

George considered her offer for less than a second, "Would it be okay if I just hung out here? I don't really want to be anywhere else right now."

Tonnie smiled, "Of course."

George walked over to the couch and sat down. He turned to Tonnie, "Why are you going to all this trouble?"

Tonnie looked at her hand s before looking up at George, "I've been trying for over a year to get Peach to laugh again. I'm not about to give up just when things start to get better for her."

"Oh," said George.

Tonnie was quiet for a few moments before saying, "Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

George thought for a moment before saying, "ET"

Tonnie walked over to the teevee and opening a drawer, imitating the movements Peach had made almost three months ago, a picture appeared on the screen. Pushing another button, the movie began. Tonnie sat down on the couch beside George. Five minutes in, a _beep_ came from Tonnie's watch, she looked at it and squealed, "I'm gonna be late for work!" She jumped up and ran to the door putting on her jacket, she asked, "You'll be alright here?"

George nodded in response. He heard the door close and Tonnie was gone.

The flat was silent. All that could be heard was the soft humming of the fridge and the teevee. The movie ended and, after many failed attempts, George watched it again. And then another time. And another. He hardly noticed Tonnie come in. After he refused her offer of food or a blanket, she disappeared into her room. George continued watching the movie. He'd nod off every hour or so, only to awake a few minutes later. He soon gave up on even nodding. He sat there, staring at the screen, waiting for Peach, and remembering the feeling of her head on his shoulder.


	8. Missing Dreams

"_How can you even think that!?" He towered over her, screaming his disgust of her twisted mind. _

_She sat on the floor leaning her back against the wall. She lifted her eyes from her feet and looked up at him, "I won't let this screw up my life. I've only just figured out what I'm gonna do with my self and I won't throw it away because of what you want." Her voice was quiet and it took all her energy to hold back the tears piling behind her eyes._

"_What life?! Attempting to sell what you slap onto canvas while I work my arse off so we can live in this five star flat!" He didn't lower his voice._

"_What I slap onto a canvas?! Did it ever occur to you that ever since I started 'slapping stuff onto canvases' I can say that for the first time in my life I'm happy?! Or would you have preferred that I stay in a high-paying desk job that makes me miserable?!"_

"_I would have preferred that you didn't turn your back on your dream!"_

"_This is my dream! And I can't let your wishes get in the way of it!" The tears had spilt out of her eyes and were rolling down her cheeks._

_He took a deep breath and sat down beside her, "You think you're the the only one worried about this?" his voice was low and soft, the way it had sounded when she'd fallen in love him, "Hell, when you told me my whole life flashed before my eyes. But there are so many things we can do about this. Do you even realize what you're talking about?" He took her face in his soft hands and wiped away her tears, he kissed her damp cheek and pulled her bangs out of her face. _

_She let herself fall under his spell for a moment before pushing him away and shooting up to tower over him. "Of course I know what I'm talking about! And I know it's the right choice!"_

"_How can it be the right choice?!" He was yelling again, but she didn't fear him this time, she was so consumed by emotion that she had no room for fear._

_She paced in front of him and put her hands to her throbbing head. "I'm getting a headache, I need to get out of here."_

_She took a step towards her jacket, but he stood up and acted as a barrier between them. "Fine then, no more yelling, just please stay here and we'll talk about this." His voice was soft again and he'd taken her hands in his. _

"_It's not the yelling," she jerked her hands out of his, "I need to get away from you."_

_It broke her heart to see his heart break. His head fell and he stepped out of the way. She grabbed her coat and headed for the door. She was through the doorway before she stopped, turned around, and ran back to him. She threw her arms around his neck, he lifted his head to kiss her passionately. After what felt like hours, they broke apart and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Through tears, she told him, "I promise I'll be back in a couple days, I just need to figure this out for myself. You can understand that?"_

"_I can," his voice shook with tears._

"_I love you so much, I know we can get through this," she wept._

_He lifted her head and looked into her eyes, "I love you too, whatever we do, we'll get through it together."_

_She smiled through her tears and nodded. Pulling away from his embrace, she left the flat. Turning around to smile at him one last time._

Peach's shot out of her dream. She felt the tears that were still running down her cheeks. She thought that she was through with the nightmares. That she had gotten better. She hadn't had any nightmares in months. She'd had dreams…dreams of George. How long had it been? A week? More?

She heard the distant sound of feet climbing up stairs. Tonnie pulled back a curtain and walked over to Peach's bed, where she lay.

"I heard you wake up." Tonnie's voice was soft a she pulled strands of her friend's hair away from her damp cheeks, "another nightmare?"

Peach feared that if she opened her mouth she'd break down completely, so all she did was nod.

"I was so relieved when I thought they were over. But now they're worse than before."

"Me too," The moment the words escaped her lips, Peach was reduced to a puddle of tears. Tonnie gathered her in her arms and held tightly.

"I'm sure he'll come back." She cooed.

Peach only made another gasp for air and cried harder, "What's happening to me?!"

Tonnie took a deep breath. "I don't know," she lied.

She held Peach for a long time before she finally calmed down and pulled away.

"I think I need to get out of here."

------------------------------

Peach's eyes jerked open as the train came to a stop. She didn't bother to check how she looked. She felt like hell and knew that she looked it too. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she stood up with her one bag aver her shoulder. Stepping off of the train began to walk.

---------------------------

Mrs. Yarin looked at her daughter who stood in her doorway. She carried the look of a lost child and looked like she hadn't showered in days. She took in choky breath before saying, "The time of year's kind of gotten to me. I really needed to get out of the city."

They both broke down. Mrs. Yarin gathered her daughter in her arms. Through the tears, she guided her into the house.

-------------------------------

The house smelt unmistakably of peaches, coffee, and burning wood. The smells she'd grown up with.

The smell triggered warm memories of when life had been easier. Christmas morning, running down the stairs to find her father with a fresh cup of coffee and her mother with a decorative jar of peaches. Summers spent in the kitchen with her mother canning peaches. A family hug, smother by the two scents of her parents. All illuminated by the wood fire. Sitting at the table, sipping warm coffee and sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of juicy peaches, a warm smile grew on her face as she remembered.

"Is everything alright?" asked her father.

Placing her coffee cup on the table she made a quick nod, "yeah, I'm doing okay."

"Work's good? You're getting lots of customers?" her mother jumped in.

"Yeah, more than I can handle actually," she assured her.

"You're not too stressed?"

"No."

"Then why did you come here?"

Peach picked at some chipping paint on the pastel blue table, "The nightmares came back."

Her parents let out worried sighs. They stood up and walked over to her, to sandwich her between her two favorite scents.

------------------------

"_You did it?! You did it without telling me?! How could you?!"_

"_Don't you realize that I'm hurting too?! I'm so disgusted with myself! All I want to do right now is crawl into a hole die!"_

"_I can't believe this. I thought we'd agreed against it. We were going to do this together."_

_She paused before answering, "You'd agreed to it. You never listened to what I wanted! I wasn't ready. I was way over my head and you just kept pushing me under. I had to make this decision without you."_

_He didn't answer he just turned around and made for the door._

"_Where are you going?!" she cried._

_He turned to look at her, "I can't be around someone who would do what you did." With that, he turned and stormed out the door._

"_Wait! Wait! Please!" she ran to the door, but he was already gone. She crouched in the doorframe and cried for hours. She didn't stop when Tonnie walked in. She dropped the groceries and ran to her side when she saw her. Clinging to Tonnie, Peach whispered, "I told him."_

"_How'd he take it?"_

_She took in a deep breath, "He said that he couldn't be around me because of what I did." She cried harder._

_Tonnie held her for a long time, right there in the hallway, people passed and she heard Tonnie scream at them to go away. After Peach had calmed down a bit, Tonnie propped her up and said, "You can sleep in loft again if you want." _

_Peach sniffed and nodded. Tonnie supported her and led her up the spiral staircase._

-----------------------------

Peach's eyes shot open. The smell of her old pillow entered her nose and she remembered where she was. Her cheeks were yet again damp. She was surprised she had any tears left to shed. She had cried so much in the last month. Every night, she relived another moment of the nightmare that had fallen so heavily and suddenly onto her shoulders. She knew the story perfectly, she had seen it, felt it, lived it. But still, every night came as a complete shock to her.

She didn't want to fall asleep, there was one chapter left to go. The hardest chapter, the chapter where everything that had happened, everything she had done hit her. And it always hit her hard, knocking her to down to rock bottom in one hard, swift blow.

She didn't want to go through it, she'd never sleep again if that's what it took. But it would always be there in the back of her head. She would always know.

_Maybe_

She thought,

_Maybe, if I go through it willingly. If I force myself through it again, in my conscious mind, I can dream tonight._

So, she sat up, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and remembered.

----------------

_Taking a deep breath, she turned the key and opened the door to the flat she had called home for the past two years. Turning the key, she opened the door, stepped in, and nearly fainted at what she saw. Nothing. All of his photographs. Gone. His music collection. Gone. The bookshelf. Empty. She ran to the bedroom. Thrusting the closet open, she found all his clothes absent. She closed her eyes and a tear ran along her cheek. She wiped it away and turned around. Only to find the breath sucked out of her. Her paints scattered the floor, across the wall he'd painted one word._

_KILLER_

_----------------_

She shot her eyes open. She fell onto the floor in heap. Sobbing. Thrusting all her emotion into her tantrum. She rolled on the floor and wailed loudly.

_What did I do?!_

She screamed inside her head.

_You're sick! Sick! Nothing will change what you did!_

She told it to herself over and over, until the words lost their meaning.

_It's your fault he's gone! Gone! Gone! Gone!_

Gone. The words didn't have an effect on her. Was it so horrible that he was gone? Would she rather have him with her?

She rolled onto her back. She thought about how she'd felt when he left. How she'd wished she'd never met him. What about George? George had left. But she would never forget their months together. Even if they were never a couple, she had loved him. She'd loved him like she'd never loved anyone before. The pain of losing George was worth the memories. Daniel wasn't worth this. Daniel had left thinking only of his own pain. Not of her, the girl he was supposed to love.

She wasn't crying anymore. She didn't feel like crying. The pain had ceased. But it hadn't ceased like it had when the incident had first occurred, gradually slipping out of her mind. She the way she had whenever she was around George. Totally and completely happy. She'd done it. All by herself. It didn't matter that it only lasted a moment. That a second later she remembered George's absence. She didn't depend on anybody but herself. She could do fine on her own. Maybe she would go back to London. Maybe she would start another painting, an independent, happy painting. Maybe she would dream.

And it was with a smile on her face, and a clear head that she lay on her pillow and fell into a dream of fiery red hair and laughter.

Hours later, she awoke to the sound of her father's voice, "Peachie! Tonnie's on the phone!"


	9. and then

On the second day, George awoke from a short doze to find the flat empty. Thinking little of it, he attempted to stay alert for another round of _ET_. Halfway through the movie, the door swung open. Joni and Tyler shot through the flat. Ignoring George's presence, they moved swiftly through the flat, gathering any small sculptures or pottery pieces they could find.

"Are you robbing Peach?" George tried to make his presence be known.

Joni had moved into the kitchen and was rummaging through drawers. She didn't even look at George when she answered him, "No, we're just stripping the place of anything valuable so Peachie can't throw it at you. Not that we're ecstatic with the fact that we're protecting you from bodily harm. Should we take the knives?" The last sentence was directed at Tyler.

"Just the one from her grandmother," he replied.

"uhh, y-you might also want to grab that paintbrush with the blue handle, i-it was her first one, it kind of means a lot too her," George couldn't help but chime in.

Joni stopped what she was doing for a moment and looked at him, for a brief moment, he could see her heart melt in her eyes, before it was quickly replaced by the angry glare Tonnie had given him almost two days ago, "I would call that the sweetest thing I've ever heard if only it wasn't coming from the idiot who left Peach"

George would have fought back, but he had little energy in him, and the only person he wanted to explain himself to was Peach. So he simply replied, "where is Peach?"

"She's on her way, she'll be here in a little under an hour," Joni told him.

"It-it's been pretty brutal on her, without you. It was hard for her to smile after her incident. That all went away when you showed up. So, please, don't screw things up with her. She needs you," Tyler said it shyly, but he spoke with confidence in his words.

"I need her too," George's statement was followed by silence. Until Joni let out an exasperated sigh,

"Okay…we'd better get a move on," she said. Turning on her heal, she briskly walked out the door. Tyler gave him a simple smile before following her.

----

The door opened. And she walked in. There were bags under her eyes from sleep deprivation. Her hair stuck out in every which way. Her clothes were wrinkled. She looked like she'd been to hell and back. She was beautiful. In that casual, just rolled out of bed, effortless kind of way. She was drop dead gorgeous.

Her baggy eyes scanned the flat, and fell on him, and her eyes filled with that look that had confused him so much but now made ridiculously perfect sense. That look of love. And it broke his heart to see the remains of her shattered heart reflected in her eyes. To clearly see the haunting memory of whatever had happened to her. Whatever had thrown her into this state of dependency. All he wanted to do was to hold her, and let her cry, and sob uncontrollably himself, and rock her back and forth, and take care of her, until she was better.

But her eyes took hold of his, and he hoped that she could see how sorry he was. How much he loved her.

Neither of them saw Tonnie slip into her bedroom.

She could have screamed at him. She could have broken down right there and cried and thrown herself on him and told him exactly how she felt and begged him to never leave her again. She could have stormed out right then right there. Put him through what he had put her through. Yeah, send him off to his parents, let him see how he likes it.

Instead, she opened her mouth, a squeak emerged, nothing else. She stood there, a small, vulnerable child. George didn't want to talk to Vulnerable Peach, or Painter Peach, or even Happy Peach, he wanted to talk to Peach. To every single one of her characteristics that made her the amazing person she was. The amazing person who had been through some utter horror that had changed her. The amazing person who had helped him when no one else could. The amazing person who he had hurt so horribly.

George didn't know if it was the lack of sleep, or the fact that the woman he loved was standing before him, heartbroken, or a little combination of both that caused him to speak, "I'm sorry. Peach, I am so…so sorry. I had no idea that leaving you alone would do this to you. I swear I had no idea,"

Peach's eyes looked up at him, he looked deep into them, he saw his words swirling around in her mind, retrieving everything about her that made her herself. He watched a delicate strength claw its way to the front of her eyes, and he watched it evolve into anger, "you told me that you'd come back the next day. The very next day. You never came. I waited for you. I waited for so long. And I hit rock bottom. What the hell would make you do that? What could possibly make you forget me? What could be more important than my trust in you?"

"My brother died, Peach," was all George could say, "My brother died. And, when he left this world, he didn't just leave me behind. He left me, two parents, four brothers, one sister, and countless good friends to stay here, without him. And, after he died, I was lost, I can hardly remember the months after him, when I just kind of wasn't there. But I caught a break," he paused and looked deeper into her eyes, "You found me. You found me. And you helped me. But, my family, there was no break for them, and we just spent a month and a half together, and we remembered him, we remembered everything about him. And…we thought about what he would have wanted us to do, and what we wanted to do, and now, we're moving on. Bill's going home to Fleur. Charlie's going back to Egypt. Dad's headed back to work. Percy's going to do the right thing and head back to the office and work for a better boss. Ron and Ginny are starting school again. Mum's back to cooking and screaming. And I'm opening the joke shop. That's what we were doing all this time, fixing it up…and fixing ourselves along the way"

"And all this time, in forty seven days, I never crossed your mind?" Peach's eyes were brimming with tears.

"I thought about you a lot. There we times when I wanted to run out of that joke shop and right back to you. But I just couldn't bring myself to leave. Not when things were so right. I know I hurt you, and it kills me that I did that to you. But all this time we've been growing closer, I've been drifting away from them. I've been stupid, I was so caught up in my own problems that I didn't realize what I was doing to everyone around me. But I realize that now, and I'm gonna make it better. I'm gonna be a Weasley again, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to be there for you. But I need to forgive myself. And I can't do that until you've forgiven me"

Peach just stood there, a tear rolled down her cheek, "I don't want to be angry with you. I want to be that happiness that only you can make me feel. But I can't yet. You need to wait. I want to forgive you, but I can't just yet"

"Oh" George stood up and took a step towards the door, "I guess you won't be wanting me around then," George continued walking towards the door, but Peach cried for him to wait.

"I'm really, really angry with you, but I just don't want you to walk out of my life again, even if it is just for a day," she begged him.

George looked down, tears were building up behind his eyes, "I'll stay then," his voice cracked. Peach sat on the couch. He sat across from her on the coffee table, burying his face in his hands he cried, "I'm so so so so so so sorry," and his shoulders shook with tears, tears that only grew when he looked up. Peach was looking at the ceiling, her eyes carrying shards of her broken heart. Tears steadily flowed from her cheeks. She wouldn't look at him.

They stayed silent for hours. Eaching sobbing quietly. George wanted to reach into his chest and pull out his heart to spare him the pain of how it ached. But the feeling lightened when Peach inhaled loudly and looked down at her feet, "Okay," she said, "I've thought about what you said, what you've been through. And I think I'm almost done being angry at you"

"But?" George could feel another speech coming on.

"But," Peach began the imminent speech, "you need to realize that you hurt me, more importantly, how you hurt me," she closed her eyes and let another tear slide down her cheek while she inhaled loudly again, and then exhaled, "the day after you left, I waited for you. And when you didn't come, I got that feeling when your gut falls into your stomach. And, the later it got, the bigger the feeling got. And then, the day was over, and you hadn't come. But I still waited. You didn't come. And, after a month, I finally gave up. I thought giving up would be okay, I could accept it and move on with my life, but instead, I felt like dying. See, when you came into my life, I just became…happy. In a way I'd never been happy before. And, when I realized you weren't coming back, I realized I didn't know how I was going to get by. I didn't want to be in a place that you weren't. So, I went to my parents'. And…that's pretty much it. I always thought I was so strong, and now, here I am, crying for a month because a friend ditches me. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it felt so absoluty…horrible"

George thought he had finished crying, but a fresh wave of tears erupted from his eyes at Peach's speech," It-it sounds like a lot. Am I can't believe that I did that to you. Tonnie told me that something happened to you, and, I don't know what happened," George's throat was tight from tears he'd been holding back, but he couldn't hold them back any longer, he put his face in his hands and tears flowed heavily from his face, and his body shook, and he gasped for breathe trying to get his words out, "but…it hurts like…n-nothing, nothing else that I c-can't stop you from h-h-hurting. I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I never wanted anyone to hurt you. B-But I promise, I'll do anything, anything to stop you from hurting"

Peach was crying heavily as well, and she also gasped for breath to tell him, "Y-You have h-helped m-me. S-so much. You make me s-so h-happy. A-and w-when you left, y-you still helped me. I thought about…w…what happened to me. And it doesn't hurt as much anymore. It doesn't even hurt as much as the knowledge that I can't bring Fred back and s-stop your pain. I hate to see you in pain" she cried.

"I hate seeing you in pain" George cried back.

"You make me feel so good"

"You make me feel good"

"I don't want to ever be without you again"

"I always want to be with you"

The crying had been reduced to shaky gasps for breath and small tears sliding down cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," whispered George.

Peach stood up, walked over to him, sat next to him, and told him, "I forgive you"

And then, they kissed.


	10. How Does One Remember

The light smell of Peach's hair mixed with the soft scent of fabric softener drifted into George's dreams and gently pulled him into alertiveness. Breathing in the scent of the soft pillow his head rested on, George allowed the smile tickling his cheeks to take over his face, but it disappeared when his outstretched arm only felt the cooling imprint of Peach's body. Shooting his eyes open, his head shot off the pillow as it jerked every which way looking for Peach. His eyes found her, and his face was yet again engulfed by a smile. She sat beside the bed on a wooden chair, legs crossed, back straight, and eyes intently focused on the easle that stood before her. It was obvious he was watching Painter Peach. She had the distant look in her eyes that only Painter Peach had. She looked so naturally beautiful, her hair lay askew on her shoulders, her lips were dry and chapped, and dried mucus caked around her nostrils. But her eyes were intact, and captivating. Captivating him in such a way that it took him a full to minutes to realize she was still naked. Setting his head down slowly back on the pillow, he watched her, calm and confident in her own world of nothing but a blank canvas and the paints to make it something more. Everything else melted out of George's mind as he watched her. There was nothing like watching Peach paint. The way she sat perfectly still but put her entire body into the painting at the same time. The steady movement of her entire arm as it danced across the canvas. The adorable way her head tilted from side to side as she pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. She held the paintbrush so delicately, as if it would shatter at any moment. Her grip tightened when Peach suddenly plunged out of her trance and she saw him.

"Hey," he piped.

"Hey," she laughed shyly.

"What'cha' doin'?" he asked.

She blushed. He loved the way she tilted her head down and her hair created a light shadow around her face. Her eyes carried the look of a little girl who'd been caught with her hand caught in the cookie jar, "just…painting," her voice was quiet and squeaky.

"That's a shame, I was looking forward to waking up with you in my arms," he smiled at her.

"Sorry, I just couldn't let that moment slip," her voice wasn't shy anymore, it was simply tinted with sadness.

"What's wrong?" George immediately sat up, eyes wide.

"Nothing"

"Peach"

"What?"

"Please don't ruin this moment, for either of us, something's bothering you, you can tell me."

Peach was quiet for a second, George watched her heart melt in her eyes, "That's how you're different, George, you don't let me sit on it," she whispered.

"Different than what"

Peach had put her paintbrush down along with dropping her head after he asked the question. She seemed to be contemplating whether or not to tell him something. She huffed before lifting her head. Her eyes were closed, opening them abruptly, she looked into George's, "Daniel," was all she said.

"Who was Daniel?"

She looked up, as if remembering a warm memory, as a sweet smile grew upon her face, "my first love" she paused and just continued smiling, "we met when I was still at law school. He was a few years ahead of me, he graduated after I dropped out and we started living together. He graduated at the top of his class so it didn't take him too long to get a high paying job in a big law firm. We moved into this really, really fancy apartment. We were living this fantasy life, he would go off to a job that he loved and I'd stay home with my paints. Then he'd come home, and he'd always have bought me some extravagant gift, like a piece of jewelery, or a really expensive dress. And then he'd take me to some special event, I mean, the kind of events that people dream about, rich people events. And it was…amazing. But not for me," Peach looked down, "It wasn't exactly the way I wanted to live, but as long as it was with Daniel, I was happy enough. And then, something happened, we made a mistake together, and then I made a bigger one by myself, and…he left. I never thought I'd get better," She looked at him again, her eyes glistening with tears, "I did wake up in your arms, George. And believe me, when I did, I felt so happy and I just wanted to lie there forever, with you. But then I remembered all the times I'd woken up in Daniel's arms, how happy I'd felt then, and, I realized, I couldn't remember it very well. All those mornings were just becoming fading memories, and I had nothing to remember them by, and I knew I wanted to remember this moment. So I painted," she saw the questioning look in George's eyes, falling off the chair, she sat on her knees at his side, George had shifted to his stomach sometime during her story. She grabbed his hand and clung to it tightly, she looked into his eyes with her pleading voice and told him, "please understand, I was young, and stupid, and in love. But it was a stupid, stupid love that I fell out of, it just took me too long to realize I had. I made a mistake, a huge mistake that I'll regret for the rest of my life, not because of Daniel, because of what it meant. I don't regret losing Daniel, he wasn't right for me. I just," her voice had tightened and small tears were welling in her cheeks, "I just can't bring myself to tell you what I did because I'm scared you'll leave me just like Daniel," she tilted her head to his hand, and began crying, taking in a long, deep breathe, and then shakily letting it out.

George, who couldn't stand to see her cry gently lifted her chin, looking deeply into her eyes, told her, "I trust that when you're ready, you'll tell me what happened. Until then though, I'll never need anything but your beauty to remember this moment," and he kissed her again, deeply, but softly, just like the night before. He pulled her back onto the bed. They rolled onto their sides and faced each other. George gently caressed her face, wiping the tears from her face and smoothing out her hair. His hand slid off her face, and onto her neck, it slid past her shoulder, and along her arm, running his hand up and down it slowly and softly, he whispered, "how long have you been up?"

"Hours," she muttered through closed eyes.

"You still tired?"

"Exhausted"

"Good. Go back to sleep, this time I hope that I will wake up with you in my arms"

The last thing George saw was Peach smiling and closing her eyes. The last thing he felt was his arm draped over her warm body. He didn't know what Peach wasn't telling him, but he figured it was only decent of him to cut her some slack, especially with the huge secret he was keeping from her, but in truth, he didn't want to keep his secret from her anymore. He didn't want to keep any secrets from her. His last thought was of the perfect way to expose her to the magical world he'd been raised in.


	11. If Only

Peach was absolutely gorgeous as she slept. George had awoken only moments ago to find her sleeping body beside him with his arm draped lazily over her shouders. Her cheeks were still stained with the imprints of her tears from only hours before when she had knelt before him and begged so desperately for his forgiveness of an unspeakable deed she had performed so long ago. George did not know what she could have possibly done that pulled at her heart so mercilessly, but it shattered his to see her in such pain. She didn't look that way when she slept, when she slept she was peaceful, undisturbed, humble. And as George watched her humble being breathe slowly in and out, he thought of nothing other than everything about her. When she had found him, a lost person on a bench, she had been a simple passerby, nothing more, it was only instinct that led him to walk with her, and then to make arrangements for the next day, and the next. She had been so carefree, so unlike anyone else he had ever met, so amazing. How had he not seen it? How could he think that was all she was, a perfect, undamaged instrument meant only to fix him? He hadn't seen that she needed fixing just as badly as he had, she had done her part, for the first time since Fred, in that very moment, with the woman he loved so much so close to him, he was happy. But she wasn't, he didn't know what caused her grief, what had bent and broken her so brutally, but he was ready to devote his entire life to fixing her.

She shifted, moving her face closer to his and entangling their legs even more, her arm flew up in the air it stretched before falling onto his side, she let out a brief huff before settling again. Her eyes remained closed. George let out a breathe of laughter, lifting his arm off of her soft body, he brushed away a stand of hair that had fallen into her face. He had meant to lightly and swiftly brush it away before returning his arm to its previous position protectively over her shoulder. But, the very second he brushed it away, his knuckle was briefly exposed to the feeling of her soft cheek, her beautiful face. He couldn't help but to caress it lightly with his fingertips. Running his hand smoothly along her cheek and into her gorgeous hair, again and again. Holding her face and gently running his thumb over her cheek, she let out a quiet moan from the back of her throat. George smiled at the angel-like sound before gently tipping her head closer to him and pressing his lips lightly against her forehead. Her mouth twitched briefly into a small smile before resuming to the peaceful expression George had woken up to. Fearing that his pounding heart would pop out of his chest if his fingertips were exposed to her face any longer, he let his hand slip from her cheek, to her neck, to her shoulder, to her arm. He ran his hand over it slowly before sliding his hand down her back and running it up to her hair, which he petted with his fingertips and waited for her to wake up.

--------------------------------------

His arm had been draped over her shoulder when she fell asleep, and now, when she awoke, she felt it still there. He hadn't moved an inch. She had. Her arm was now resting on what felt like his side.

The daylight swam through her closed eyelids. She didn't want to open them. She didn't want the thought of day to ruin this moment. She didn't want the hair tickling her nose to ruin it either. She was about to lift her hand and brush it away when George's arm left her shoulder. She froze. Was he leaving? No, there was the sudden soft feeling of her hair sliding off her face and his finger grazing her cheek. His hand left her face for a second, then she felt his fingertips, caressing her face. Making her feel warm inside. His fingertips slid down her face and his entire hand rested lightly on her cheek. It was still for less than a moment before it began running down her cheek and she felt his fingers tugging lightly on her hair. She couldn't help but to moan quietly while his hand cupped face and he ran his thumb over her cheek. His thumb stopped moving. And she held her breath. Her breath returned after he tilted her head forward and she felt his warm lips against her forehead. The corner of her mouth twitched to a smile while his hand ran down her side, to her arm, where he ran his hand against it before his hand glided down her back and into her hair.

She kept her eyes closed for a few moments. Relishing the feeling of George's loving caresses. But soon the feeling was no longer enough. She needed to see his eyes. Opening hers, she saw his looking back at her lovingly.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey."

The very sound of his voice melted her soul. Inhaling loudly, she exhaled, "I woke up in your arms."

A toothy grin grew across George's face as he continued to pet her hair and laughed quietly, "Yeah, yeah you did."

They lay like that for hours. Not a worry in their heads. Only the other's eyes, and their smile. Peach gazed at the love that George sent her through his eyes and the content smile on his face. Unaware that George was feeling just as whole as her at the moment, the way her warm smile and the happiness in her eyes warmed his soul.

----------------------------------

The hours passed by silently with no need for words. Until they were needed. An expression tickled George's tongue. Desperate to emerge from his mouth and into her ears. The words escaped. George was more than willing to free them.

"Peach?"

"Yeah?"

"I have a regret."

"What's that?"

"When I came over, Tonnie answered the door. And, I swear, she was reaching for a knife to jam into my chest."

Peach snorted and George continued, "And, in order for me to live to see you again, I had to tell her something, something that I'd have rather told you first."

A jokingly smile spread on Peach's face and she lifted her head, her eyes twinkling flirtatiously, "What's that?"

----------------------------------

The words 'if only' are often used when another path could be taken, but the path that was taken leads to any horrible event. And at this point in both George and Peach's lives, the words 'if only' seemed perfect the occasion.

If only George had known what would happen when he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, rested his hand upon it and whispered, "I love you, Peach."


	12. If I Tell You A Secret

Peach's reaction was a surprise to George. But it completely tore Peach apart. It wasn't what George had said or the scars of what the last man who had uttered those words before that scared her so much. It was the shock of what she did. It shocked her even more than it did George.

The moment the word 'love' floated into her ear, she stopped thinking. When he said her name, like a beautiful song instead of a juicy fruit, her body took over, it shot up and threw her as far away from him as she could get. Then she saw his eyes, and the time she had to think before speaking slipped from her mind. So she opened her mouth and hoped that something would emerge.

"Can you cook?"

George looked at her, through scattered mess of worry in his eyes, an impish, joking mood made the tiniest spark, "I tried to make toast when I was five, set half the kitchen on fire, and I've been a kitchen-phobic ever since," he smiled.

Peach paid no attention to his joke. She just began pacing, "perfect, that's bloody perfect. I've never touched a spatula and you're afraid of the kitchen. I guess we'll just starve to death!" Peach huffed it more to herself than to George. She wouldn't even look at him.

"Well, we can figure something out," George's voice was pleading.

She looked at him, "This was a mistake. A dumb mistake"

"What?! I thought last night meant something to you! It meant something to me,"

It hurt so much just to look at George. He looked so hurt.

She breathed deeply, "It meant something to me. It meant a lot to me. I love you George. I just don't see how we can make this work."

She was standing at the foot of the bed. George inched closer to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked into her eyes, his were so pleading, so desperate. But his voice was confident, and tinged with worry.

"It sounds like a lot of work, I know. But this…what we have…you. You are so, so worth it. And I'm not going to throw this away because it's complicated. We'll figure something out, okay?" His eyes were brimming with tears, "we'll figure something out," his voice was cracking.

Tears were welling up in her eyes, too. The negative thoughts that had been pounding her brain. They weren't pounding so hard anymore. And she could hear herself think. She could hear the thoughts that had been drowned out by doubt, because they were singing so softly, so beautiful. And when she listened to their lovely voices, and the gorgeous things they sang, she couldn't help but agree. It was worth it. What they had was worth it. George was worth it.

As an answer, she threw her arms around him as small tears spilled from her eyes and onto her shoulders. George understood what she meant, as he engulfed her in his own arms.

They stayed that way for a long time. They didn't kiss or pull away, they just held each other. Saying exactly what one of them meant to the other without making a sound.

Peach could have stayed that way forever. But another doubtful thought still lingered in Peach's mind. A thought she couldn't hold back. So, she pulled away.

"But how can we trust each other if I can't even tell you why Daniel left me?"

George smiled and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. He said softly, "When you're ready, you'll tell me"

"But what if I'm never ready? Or, it takes years?"

George only continued to smile and stroke her cheek, "I'll wait. I'll always be ready to wait," then, he leaned in and whispered into her ear, "Get dressed, there's something I need to show you"

--------------------------------------

"Remind me again how this is supposed to assure me that we can make our relationship work?" Peach's words were slurred and flat. George wasn't simply leading her to God knew where, he had to drag her through the streets of London. Peach wasn't a morning person. Not one bit.

"Because, the only people who know what you're about to find out who aren't supposed to know what you're about to find out, you among them, only know because they're madly in love with a person who knows and is supposed to know," George chimed gleefully. If Peach hadn't been so annoyed by his being just so happy to pull her out of bed during a very intimate, more importantly relaxing, moment only hours after she had spent hours traveling without a proper bathroom and was thoroughly exhausted, she might have noticed the hint of worry in his voice that, little did she know, was tearing at his insides, overshadowed only by his excitement.

He led her to a nearby park, where they stopped in the middle of a green field. Saying it was a cool breeze that blew on her face would have been a huge understatement. It was a freezing breeze. If she hadn't been so focused on the cool wind freezing the greasy strands of hair that hung against her cheeks, she'd have heard George mutter a silly sounding word like 'evato' and the sudden absence of passerby's. George's hand slipped from Peach's right wrist and he interlocked fingers with her. After successfully tucking a crunchy lock of hair behind her ear, George lightly grasped her left hand and stood before her. And she finally noticed how nervous he seemed. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it. He opened it again, hesitated again, and closed it again. His head dropped, he seemed to be contemplating something. His head lifted, and his mouth opened, for a moment no sound emerged, then, "I'm a…" his mouth closed abruptly. He contemplated one last time before telling her, "First of all, Peach. You need to know that I've loved you ever since the day we met, I was just to blind to realize it. Know that all I want is to be with you, and if you let me, my number one priority will be to make you happy. I would never try too hurt you and it breaks my heart when I see you hurt," he took a deep breath, "lastly, please understand that what I'm about to tell you means so much. And it's unbelievably important that you don't tell anyone, got it?"

Peach was confused and a little scared. But she nodded. And fear flashed in George's eyes. He looked the way someone did when the butterflies in your stomach gnaw away at whatever's keeping your heart in your chest and then it snaps like an elastic and your heart plunges into your gut and the butterflies dance manically about it. Yeah, he definitely looked like that.

"I'm wizard, Peach"


	13. Anything You Want

Hey you wonderful readers!

Here's your very first authors note! I know I know, it's awesome that I'm finally addressing you. But get over the excitement, I'll wait.

_While you're waiting I have a few _good_ announcements to make. One of my new favorite readers, countrygurl4ever, has put me on her favorite author list. It's my first time on one of those lists! YAY! Next, my story has crossed the 4digit line. That's right! Over 1500 views!!! Boo-Ya! Finally, my very favorite reader, Karied, is working on a youtube video for this fic. Want the link? Keep reading. _

Over it? Good. Because I sadly, only have bad news to bring. Along with a very urgent message.

This story is in immediate danger.

Loyal followers, for the past few months I have called myself a loyal Jericho fan. Due to my obsession with this kick-ass show. I have been ridden with guilt, as I did not take part in the attempted murder of CBS workers with nut allergies, and I could have definitely worked harder at recruiting fans. Luckily, the true loyal fans picked up my slack, and worked their butts off to revive the amazing show after it's cancellation and, after being granted a second season, both fans and CBS have been working just as hard to get more viewers before the big day. As February 12th approaches and I'm starting to panic, I've set my priorities straight. And, frankly, Jericho comes before Just George.

I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, but until Jericho is promised a third season, I'm abandoning Just George to write a Jericho fic.

I know, it sucks, but, the sooner Jericho gets enough viewers who don't get dragged away as soon as American Idol premieres, the sooner I can return to this wonderful story. Plus, any Jericho viewers become my very favorite readers, more favorite than Karied, and that's saying a lot, (Karied treats this fic the way I treat Jericho).

The only reason I wrote this chapter was so you wouldn't have to wait so long for George's long-awaited confession.

Want to read more? Watch Jericho

Want the link to Karied's video? Watch Jericho

Want Action? Watch Jericho

Want a few good love stories? Watch Jericho

Want adrenaline? Watch Jericho

Want a cool concept? Watch Jericho

Want humor? Watch Jericho

Want mystery? Watch Jericho

Just want a good TV show? Just watch the freaking show!

Watch Jericho

Watch Jericho

Watch Jericho

It's the best show on television, even if the ratings don't say so.

Season 2 premieres Tuesday, February 12th at 10.

Read my stimi fic: The World Ended For Us. Coming as soon as I finish chapter 1. Also, read my coming soon essays: Why Jericho Rocks, and A Sidekick Steps Into The Spotlight (It mentions Jericho)

Sorry this chapter's short, but Peach will see the Joke Shop when Season Three premieres!

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"What?" Peach didn't know what to think. So she left her mind a blank canvas, and waited for him to give her more paint.

"I'm a wizard"

She didn't speak, just stared at him in what she hoped was a quizzical manner.

"You know, magic wands and flying broomsticks and pointy hats, it's all real"

She looked at him, trying to find the joke in all of it. There wasn't one. He was being dead serious.

"Seriously George, this isn't very funny," she was getting even more annoyed, "first you ruin a perfectly gorgeous moment by jumping up and telling me to get dressed, then, you don't even let me take a shower, my hair must be so greasy, all after I've traveled by train for twenty-eight hours with very little sleep in a hard plastic seat!"

"I'm not trying to be funny. I know it sounds stupid and childish, but it's true. There are a whole lot of people, like me, who can turn rats into goblets, and fly on broomsticks, and make potions…"

"Right," Peach laughed and began to pull away from him. He pulled her back.

"Wait!" He was looking more desperate every minute. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a fancy wooden stick, "just watched"

She shrugged, annoyed, "fine," she huffed.

He released his hold of her left hand and pulled of his shoe. Setting it on the ground, he pointed the stick at it. This was getting more ridiculous every second.

He chanted a funny word that sounded something like 'wing-dard-rium-levy-ows-a' and waved it at the shoe. Nothing happened. Peach was about to open her mouth and ask him what the hell he was doing, when, out of nowhere, it lifted. Off the ground. It was bloody floating. Her eyes widened as she watched it mimic the movements of George's wand.

"Believe me now?" There was a hint of a joke, and an even more present hint of 'told you so' in his voice.

"How the bloody hell are you doing that?!" She yelled.

"Magic" he coolly replied.

She looked up at him. He must have seen the shock in her face because his smile dropped as did the shoe.

"If you don't want to see me anymore, I'll understand. I just couldn't stand not telling you any longer"

Peach took a step away from him and her head fell. Taking in deep breathes, she thought about everything she knew about him. She heard rustling and looked up. George was putting his shoe back on.

"So you've been lying to me this whole time?" She asked.

"Not entirely, most of what I said was true. Everything I said was true, just edited to fit the muggle world"

"Muggle world?" Peach asked.

"The non-magical world" George explained.

"Okay. How edited?"

"Pretty edited. I was home schooled, but only until I was eleven, when I went to Hogwarts. That's a wizarding school, by the way. And I actually did set half the kitchen on fire when I was little. I tried to use my dad's wand and ended up turning the bread into flying ball of flames"

Peach laughed a little, before going serious again, "Still, I can't believe you'd lie to me like that"

"I had to, Peach, It tore me up to lie to you. But, do you have any idea how hard we work to keep our world a secret?"

"Then why are you telling me this now?"

George smiled, "Because, if a muggle means enough to one of us…"

A wide smile grew across Peach's face. George smiled, too.

"Besides," he said, taking her hand again, "Now I can tell you my complete, unedited life story, as your boyfriend"

Boyfriend. That meant she was his girlfriend. Which meant they were a couple. The thought only made Peach smile wider.

"Great!" She shouted and threw her arms around his neck, "Now lets go home, where it's warm, and you can tell me your complete, unedited life story," she kissed him before adding, "as my boyfriend"

He smiled, "so you're not going to run off sreaming?"

She kissed him again, "only a fool would walk away from something as magical as this"

He inhaled deeply, "you have no idea how relieved I am"

"Good, now," she grabbed his hand and began pulling him across the field, "let's go to my heated flat"

He pulled her back, "Not just yet" he kissed her.

"But I'm bloody freezing!" she stomped her foot.

"You're only going to get colder where we're going," he joked, but upon seeing the viciously annoyed look in her eyes, he added nervously, "but trust me, it'll be worth it"

"What could possibly be worth getting colder than this?" she stomped again.

He smiled, kissed her forehead and whispered, "close your eyes"

She did.

She felt him move away from her and heard him whisper something like 'ack-ee-yo broom'. After several moments of silence, she heard a light thud, followed by more silence, before she felt George's hand take hers again.

"Keep your eyes closed," he warned as he pulled her closer to him, turning her to face the other way, he told her, "lift your foot". She did so, and something bumped against the side of her foot. She felt George lean against her back and hold her, and, suddenly, her feet were off the ground, and she was sitting on a cushion. A cold wind whipped at her closed eyelids.

"Open your eyes," George ordered.

She did, and found herself lost for words. The cold wind bit at her face, she felt weightless, and George had his body pressed against her back and was trying to hold her by squeezing her with stiff arms, as his hands were holding onto the end of the broom they sat on. The city buildings of London looked so small beneath them. They were flying over London. She was flying.

George leaned his face to her ear and whispered, "You told me you'd always wanted to fly"


	14. Trusting Food

"So, there's this whole secret world where people fly around on broomsticks like it's nothing?"

Peach's chin rested atop her coffee table while George's wand lay in front of her face. The curious quizzical look her eyes carried matched her tone of voice perfectly.

"It's not nothing. It takes lots of practice to get really good at it. And we don't always use them to get places. We usually just aparatate or use floo powder," George answered.

"I didn't understand half of what you just said," Peach said in laughing manner.

"What didn't you get?"

"The part where you answered me like what I just said didn't sound completely loony,"

"Peach!"

She jumped up and fell onto the couch beside George, "I'm sorry!" she laughed, "it's still so hard to believe! What would you think if someone told you that there was this whole other world right under your nose?"

George had to smile, "Well, seeing as grew up in one of those…"

"Oh shut up!" Peach cupped his face in her hands before pecking him quickly on the lips. She pulled back and smiled at him before resting her head on his shoulder, "You'll take me there, won't you?" she whispered.

"I'll fly you there everyday," George whispered back.

She laughed a little, "You know, I really should be trying to find some explanation for how I just vividly dreamed flying on a broomstick…"

"You did!" George cut in, "I don't think those pinch marks will ever fade,"

Peach swatted his face playfully, "What I was _trying_ to say was that instead of being completely blown away by what you just showed me, I'm trying to figure out how we're going to make this work," she finished the sentence less playfully than when she had begun it.

George wrapped his arm around her to hold her closer and clasped her hand with his, she snuggled closer to him, "What's to work out?" he asked.

"Well first, we're from totally different worlds. And second, we're actually from different worlds,"

"There are hundreds of muggle-wizard families. If they can do it, we can,"

"I get really caught up in painting sometimes,"

"I get caught up in inventions,"

"I can't cook,"

"We'll just eat out then,"

Peach shot up, "like a date?" she asked wide-eyed.

"What do you know? It is easier to convince you that magic wands exist than getting it through your head that we're a couple," George joked.

Peach laughed and leaned back down to kiss him.

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The following months were more or less bliss for Peach and George. Peach had run giddily up and down Diagon Alley, unable to contain herself. She squealed at simple things like the owls in the pet stores and somehow found it funny that brooms were given names, like _Firebolt _and _Nimbus_. She screamed when she opened her first chocolate frog and nearly jumped out of her skin when a portrait tipped its hat to her. But in the joke shop, she became a child in a toy store. She cautiously opened a box of puking pastels before casually popping it in her mouth. She would never again eat George's cooking without having him taste it first.

Her excitement wore down after a month or two, but every now and then something would have her gaping with amazement.

Most days were spent happily together, sometimes they'd sit side by side for hours, hardly aware of the other's presence, Peach devoured in her painting and George concentrating on a new invention. Other times they'd do nothing but talk or watch movies or go flying.

Each day was different. There was no routine or schedule. They just spent time together doing whatever they felt like. If they wanted to laugh with Peach's friends, they did. If they wanted to sleep until mid-day, they did. Yet, while every day differed, every night and morning was the same. The always fell asleep and awoke in eachother's arms. As the sun rose, and the unpredictable events of the day ahead crept closer, they simply held eachother, whispering among caresses.

--------------

"Do you really have to start work today?"

Peach sat cross legged on the bed, the neckline of an old buttoned shirt slipping dangerously off her arm, exposing a freckled shoulder.

"I know, I hate it too, but I promised the family I'd open up this week," George replied hastily while cramming on his shoe, "You could come if you want,"

Peach shook her head, "I have to go to that bloody workshop this afternoon,"

"Right, well, I guess we won't see eachother until tonight then," George was now vigourously buttoning his own shirt.

"I'm still coming over to your place and we're going to attempt cooking?"

"Of coarse. That's going to be just loads of fun!" even when he was busy with his fingers fumbling to finish buttoning his shirt, George could still speak energetically.

"I'm going to miss you like nothing else until then," Peach slid off her bed and walked over to George to wrap her arms around his neck and rest her fore head on his. He kissed her and gently pulled an inch away, "You know those boxers _really _clash with that shirt,"

Peach's eyes only lit up mischieviously, "You're not getting them back," she laughed before pulling his lips against hers.

For a drawn out moment, George marveled the kiss, "Still, worth a shot," he muttered across her lips.

Peach smiled and deepened the kiss. George greedily followed her example until the face of her wristwatch caught his eye. Pushing her back he grabbed her wrist to better examine the jewellery dangling from it, "Blimey is that the time?!"

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"Sure he saves the world and all that junk, but he's still with two women!"

"He's not with them, he just likes them both"

"Well I think Felicia should have been in the movies instead if Mary Jane. That's much cuter match,"

"You only think that because you're more like Felicia, Tonnie!" laughed Jordy, "You have a crush on Spiderman!"

"I always pictured you with Robin," Jensen teased.

"Oh drop it!" laughed Tonnie, "At least I'm not stuck with Batman, the morning despiser!"

Everyone turned their heads to Tyler and laughed at Tonnie's comeback, while Tyler looked at Joni, horrified, "You told them about that?!" he exclaimed.

"Well, she actually just told Tonnie, but i'm sure she was hoping Ton would spread it around!" Antonio laughed before avoiding a pillow flying towards his head.

"Hey! I spent an hour making those pancakes and you fell asleep at the table!" was Joni's laughing comeback.

Tyler didn't need to find a snappy reply. The moment Joni finished talking, Peach's curtain flew open and George began running down the stairs while buttoning his left shirt sleeve, Peach was right behind him. Neither of them saw the six friends in the living room, watching.

"You really can't stay any longer?" whined Peach.

"I'm sorry, but the sign clearly reads open at 10:30 and it is now 10:40, I can't get out of this one," George was now struggling with his right sleeve. Peach bent her head to button it for him. After she finished, her hands still clasped his hand, "I'll see you tonight," George assured her.

Peach wrapped her arms around his neck as he wrapped his around her waist and their lips met in a long, passionate kiss. They pulled away, rest their foreheads on the other, Peach placed her hands on his chest and played winth his top button while he storked her face, "I love you more than I ever knew I could, I wouldn't miss tonight for the world," he whispered into Peach's puppy-dog eyes.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

They kissed softly and quickly again before George pulled away and opened the door, telling her he loved her a second time and pecking her quickly before closing the door behind him. Peach stood there for a few moments, staring at the door, as if bidding it to open to his face again. Placing her fingers to her lips she turned around, that's when she saw them.

Her eyes widened, and her eyes darted to her body, making sure she was wearing clothes. Her hand shot off her mouth, "How long have you been there?" she demanded.

"Oh, just a second ago, however did you get down here?" Antonio joked.

Peach rolled her eyes and plopped onto the couch, "Alright, go on! Let the taunting begin. I'm in love, I'm happy, and you goons aren't going to change that," she stated.

Joni took no time to let Peach's words sink in, "So...slept here did he?" she chimed.

"Yep, and oh was it amazing," Peach said, dreamily staring at the ceiling. Her response followed a few wolf whistles.

"Honestly Peach, it's a shock you haven't gotten pregnant with the way you two are going at it," Tyler punched in.

Peach stared into space for a few minutes before saying, "I don't really think that would be too bad," she said it as if she said it every day. However, the group didn't react that way, jerking forward with wide eyes. Questions were shouted from gaping mouths all at once. Peach just sat and waited for them to calm down, "It's not like I'm hoping it will happen," she explained, "I just wouldn't call it a mistake if it did,"

"So you're that nuts about him," asked Joni.

Peach smiled, "Yeah, I've never felt this way before, I just don't want to do anything but be with him, you know? He makes me feel like anything's possible,"

"Even flying?" Tyler joked.

Peach only smiled wider, "We already did,"


	15. Making Food

"You try that and we'll be eating off the floor!" Peach squealed as George attempted to flip the eggs with nothing more than a flick of the wrist instead of a spatula.

"We wouldn't be worrying about this if I had my wand on me," George joked.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," Peach warned, "If I'm accepting your world, you're accepting my world, and in my world, our magic wand is that wiry stick thingy,"

George shrugged, "Then the floor is your plate," and he flicked the pan, the eggs flew up in the air, and, amazingly, half returned to the pan. The other half splattered onto the counter, and a little bit sprayed into Peach's hair, resulting in a scream.

"Oh, you are impossible!" she laughed, wiping the yoke out of her eyes.

"No more than your wandless self," was his smooth reply.

The evening progressed, the spices spilled all over George when he opened the cubboard, two-foot-tall flames burst from the pan, and the flour exploded. When the kitchen had been dealt with and Peach was waiting for the timer to go off, signalling her to turn off the stove, she painted, which is why she missed the timer...and the smoke. She didn't break out of her trance until George knocked her off her chair while running towards the kitchen to frantically wave the thick gray cloud away from the oven.

-----------------------

"You know, this is actually half decent," Peach said with a small bite of whatever they had made lodged between her gums.

"Yeah, what condition do you think the kitchen would be in if it was delicious?" George joked before wincing at a playful kick from under the table.

"I like this,"

"What?"

"Eating a homecooked dinner at my place, you know, with you, just talking, hanging out," Peach casually picked at her food while she said it.

George had nothing to say but smile. Taking her hand and whispering, "I like it too," was all he could say.

She smiled in return before standing up from the table, "Alright!" she declared, "I know I made a big deal out of this whole 'muggle night' but when you have lemons, you make lemonade, and when you have magic, you use it to clean to dishes. So, get to it, I'll go get the movie set up,"

"We've got to start it right away?" George whined a bit as he picked up the dishes and withdrew his wand.

"Of coarse, I have to return the trilogy tomorrow and each one of those movies is a good few hours long, plus I like watching the bonus features," Peach added cheekily.

So, while the dishes washed themselves, Peach snuggled up to George as they watched a very long trilogy about magical wars. It actually intruiged George to the last minute, but by halfway into the final movie, George could feel Peach go limp with tiredness. She let out small moans as her sleepy mind drifted in and out of conciousness. By the time the final credits were rolling, her head was close to falling off his shoulder. He turned it off. They wouldn't be watching the bonus features tonight, whatever those were.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room. Laying her down and pulling the covers over her, he ran his fingers lightly through her hair, he climbed into bed beside her, and fell asleep with her in his arms.

-------------

Morning came and Peach opened her heavy eyes to George's smiling face. For a moment, she cherished the familiar sight, then remembered what she didn't remember what had happened the night before. She jumped up, "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart," George said sarcastically.

"Sorry, it's just, the last thing I remember is Golem falling into the fire," Peach explained.

George took in a deep breath, "Well, after that, What's-His-Name became king and ended up with that surprisingly hot brunette, Sam married that blonde hobbit, and Bilbo and Frodo left the shire for more adventures with Gandalf. _Then_, I spent ten long minutes trying to figure out how to turn the TV off, and carried you all the way up the stairs to your room, and I finally fell asleep,"

"Why didn't you just go to your place," Peach raised her eyebrows.

George looked at her as if she had asked him what two plus two was, "Because I wanted to wake up with you,"

Peach smiled, "You mean we're at that 'place'?" she asked through happy teeth.

George smiled back, "I guess we are,"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"What's the deal with this Harry Potter person?" Peach was sitting behind the counter of the joke shop with a copy of the daily prophet, a wizard newspaper, in front of her nose, while George walked among the shelves.

George's head popped ou from behind a shelf, "You have no idea how strange that sounds,"

"Why's that?"

George smirked, "Because, in my world, we're pretty much born knowing that name, well, I couldn't have been, I was a toddler when he was born,"

Peach leaned forward,"So! So! So! Who is he then?!" now she was intruiged.

"He's pretty much the reason the streets aren't covered in blood right now," George said casually.

Peach's eyes widened, her voice got caught in her thoat, she choked on words before they tumbled out of her mouth, "Who? What? Where? Why?"

George looked back at the shelf he was working on, his eyes looked heavy with emotion, "Yeah, well you know how I told you that some people are magical even though they don't have magical parents?"

"Yeah?"

"Well it's kind of like that racism thing you told me about, some purebood witches and wizards think they're better than muggleborns,"

"Well that's just sick," Peach retorted.

"Well, it only gets worse. There was this one wizard," George took in a deep breath of disgust, "Voldemort, he was one of them. And he went way too far, twice,"

"Twice?" Peach hated the way George looked, the conflict in his eyes, but her curiousity had taken the better of her.

"Yep," he replied, "The first time started before I was born, but I was like three when he supposedly died," George said the word 'died' sarcastically, "He went around killing muggleborns and collecting followers. And, there was this group of people, The Order of The Phoenix, who tried to stop him. Harry's parents were a part of it and when Voldemort found out, he killed them, he tried to kill Harry but his mum had cast spell on him so Voldemort couldn't touch him. So when he tried to kill Harry, he just kind of, disappeared for a long time. Then he came back. I was sixteen. It started out slowly, but eventually it got worse than the first time, he took over the ministry and started murdering and imprisoning muggleborns,"

"All this happened four years ago?" Peach's shocked voice cracked with tears. A bomb had dropped in her stomach with the thougt of something so horrific so recent.

"It started four years ago, it ended a little over a year ago," George whispered, "there was a battle at Hogwarts, and Harry killed him. For good,"

George hung his head, Peach didn't know what to say, but before she had to say anything, George whispered, "Me and Fred were in the battle, that's how he died,"

George wasn't crying or showing any major signs of distress. Either way, Peach felt obliged to pounce over the counter and engulf George in her arms. His body felt awkward at her sudden outburst, but soon molded into place with hers, and they held each other, a few small tears fell from her cheeks, soothing a pain that wasn't hers. She looked up at him, "Funny how I'm crying for something that didn't even happen to me," she whispered.

George seemed not to hear her, he simply looked into space, his mouth stretched into a thin line, until it melted into a small smile. Their eyes met, and he said, "I think I'm finished crying,"


	16. What In This Future?

"You know what I just realized?" Peach was on her stomach in the middle of George's flat, a canvas and paintbrushes sprawled out in front of her.

"What?" George called from the doorway of the bathroom, drying his damp hair with a towel.

"You were at the Hogwarts battle, Harry Potter was at the Hogwarts battle. Did you ever see him?"

She looked up at him, and he looked at her in an I-know-something-you-don't way. "You mean I never told you?"

"Told me what?" Peach sat up on her knees, hungry to hear another story of George's magical life.

"Well I didn't see him at the battle, I was rather preoccupied. You know, staying alive in those kind of situations can distract from noticing famous persons," George joked, "But, I still can't believe I never told you this, Harry's my little brother, Ron's, best mate," George said it matter-of-factly. Peach didn't take it that way.

"What?!" She jumped up, "Is it normal to be best mates with heroes in your world or what?"

George laughed at her sudden reaction, "No, Ron was just in the right place at the right time. Harry's pretty much a member of the family by now, he spends most summers at our place and Christmas there, too," George chuckled a bit to himself, "When Ginny was nine, she read every book she could about him and just developed the biggest crush on him, so she walks downstairs one morning and there he is, sitting at the breakfast table,"

Peach laughed, back, "Alright then, I'm spending Christmas with you and meeting him then,"

Both of them nearly fell over when they realized the full potential of what Peach had thrown out there.

"We're at THAT PLACE?!" George's voice was loud and squeaky.

"WE ARE?" Peach's voice matched.

"Maybe we are," George's voice was calmer, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"We are," Peach felt as confused as he did.

George took in a few breaths, "It doesn't really seem like such a bad thing, you know,"

"It doesn't," Peach agreed.

"Okay then!" George jumped with excitement, "Let's spend Christmas with my family!"

"And New Years with my family!" Peach exclaimed.

"We should go on a trip!"

"And get a cat!"

"Or an owl!"

"I can't keep an owl in my flat!"

"Then it'll just stay with me!"

"But I don't want to have to visit to see it!" Peach stomped her foot in that way she did when she was frustrated.

"Then why don't you move in!"

"Why don't I?!"

Another silence settled as they realized what they had agreed on.

"You want to live with me?" George asked.

"Reckon I do," Peach's voice was as surprised as George's.

"We're going to live together?" George was laughing now.

"We're going to live together!" Peach was laughing too.

"And get an owl!"

"And meet our families!"

Peach ran into George's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, George spun her around. Running her fingers through his damp hair, she showered his face with kisses before tilting their foreheads together and shakily laughing.

"We're getting serious," George whispered as he pecked her nose.

------------

"George is here for dinner tonight, Mum, he says he has some big news regarding dinner tomorrow night," Ginny casually informed her mother while stepping into the kitchen to grab an apple.

"What kind of news? Did he get a deal in that Hogsmeade space? Here does this need more salt?" Her mother didn't look up until holding up a spoonful of soup.

The warm soup slithered down her throat before Ginny answered, "No idea. He just said he had news. It's a little bland."

Ginny passed her mother the salt, "He's spending a lot of time at the joke shop it seems, I mean, it is Christmas."

Her mother continued stirring, "Well, he does own a shop, Christmas seems to be that time of year when we need the shops open so desperately," she took another sip of the soup before quietly adding, "I think he worries that he'll forget Fred if he distances himself from it."

She ended the word 'it' abruptly. Stopping with a quick and definite 'plop'. And silence crept into the air, thickly hanging above their heads. There were many moments like this now. When Fred's absence was felt so strongly. And they were so strongly reminded of the fact that, at any given moment, Fred wouldn't burst through the door with a trademark grin shouting 'Gotcha!' Not ever.

"Merlin I hope we don't lose him too," breathed Mrs. Weasley.

"He's getting better, Mum. Ever since he went back to the joke shop, he's happier, he's spending more time with us," Ginny reasoned.

"Well that's all good and true, only when Fred was around they ate at home every night, he only eats here half the time now, I can't stand not knowing what he's doing while we're all at the table,"

There was no need for silence in the following moment, as Ron burst through the door, "Hey Mum. George is here tonight. What's for dinner?"

There was no need to answer, Ron was followed quickly by George. He uttered a hello before grabbing the apple Ron had been reaching for.

"So, I hear you have some big news?" Mrs. Weasley pried.

Looking at him, hopeful for an answer, Ginny saw George's eyes glow with the giddiness they used to possess before Fred had passed, he even smiled a little. But in an instant, it twinkled away and he flatly said, "I'll tell you all at dinner when Dad's here,"

Disappointed sighs were heard throughout the kitchen before their mother piped, "Well then, might as well set the table, Ron, get the glasses, George, the plates, Ginny, check if your father's ever planning on coming home tonight."

Ron and George were already halfway across the kitchen, glasses and plates in hand, and Ginny had taken one step forward when her father burst though the door, face red as hair and a crumpled pink memo in his clenched fist, "It was always bad, but this! This has gone too far!" he spoke loudly through clenched teeth.

"What's happened Arthur?" Her mother's eyes were wide with worry. Ginny was sure she looked just the same.

"A muggle! A band of rogue Death Eaters attacked a muggle! Shacklebolt's fuming. Every single Auror has been up all night, my departments been busy helping them understand anything muggle-like. Harry's killing himself with guilt."

"He shouldn't be blaming himself, they didn't attack the muggle to get back at him," Ginny shouted out. Harry's acceptance of responsibility was one of his qualities that annoyed her so much.

Her father nodded at her, "They thought it was, Shacklebolt got a howler addressed to Harry from them. It suggested he knew her,"

The moment he finished talking, the sound of breaking glass rung into their ears. Shooting their heads back, they saw George. During his rant, the memo had escaped Mr. Weasley's hands and, perhaps by fate, or simply mere circumstance, flown into George's face. The wrinkled square of paper was held before his face by shaking hands, his face lacked any color, his eyes wide as the saucers he had broken, and his mouth gaping open and closed, his voice squeaked when he asked, "Where is she?"

Startled, Mr. Weasley answered, "It's classified information,"

"Where is she?"

George's face still held the look of utter horror that had rested upon it moments before, but his voice no longer shook, which was what made him seem so serious.

"St. Mungos," Mr. Weasley answered him immediately.

George had grabbed his wand and disappeared with a sudden 'pop' before Ginny could blink.

What the bloody hell just happened?!" Ron shrieked.

"I-I think he went to see her," Mrs. Weasley stuttered.

"Why?" Ginny asked a question she knew no one knew the answer to.

"Let's find out," said Mrs. Weasley before they all grabbed their wands and apparated to St. Mungos.

-------------------

"I'm sorry, she's a ministry case. No one can see her. How do you know who she is?" The receptionist answered in a distracted tone.

"She's my girlfriend. Please, I'm the only person she knows from here, she must be so scared," George was ready to get on his knees and beg.

"Well I'm sure when she's allowed visitors you'll be the first person she asks for," She answered with a sarcastic smile that disappeared once her eyes met George's.

"Please. I love her so much. I just need to know she'll be okay," he begged.

"I-uh-I can get one of her healers out here. What's your name?" She stuttered a bit.

"George W-Weasley" he said through a shaky breathe before he was instructed to sit in a waiting chair.

It wasn't as good as seeing Peach, as seeing her beautiful eyes, which he had suddenly forgotten what they looked like. But still his knees buckled as he walked to a waiting chair. It couldn't have been more than a few moments, but it seemed like hours before a healer rushed up to him, panting.

"Y-you know the muggle victim?" he panted.

"Y-yeah" George's voice was shaky, "Is she okay? Can I see her? What happened? Can I see her?"

The healer had caught his breath and was now speaking clearly, "We don't know yet. Sadie said you're her boyfriend?"

"Yeah. You know that she broke her arm on the swing when she was twelve right?"

"Yes, we took a medical history before she lost conciousness. How long have you been involved?"

George jumped up, "She's UNCONCIOUS?! How long?! How bloody out is she?!" he yelled, he needed to yell.

The healer couldn't respond to George's outburst, as four Weasleys rounded the corner.

"Thought we heard you! What was that?!" Ron wheezed.

And with that, George truly saw them. How worried they looked. Ginny actually looked as if she would cry, Ron had gone pale instead of his usual cherry blush, as had his father, and horror shown through his mother's eyes, something she never dared show. And that was why he told them, right then and there, in the middle of a hospital that somewhere, Peach was fighting for her life, "She was supposed to move in on Tuesday," was all he said

Shocked sighs informed George that they understood. They didn't know Peach, or how long they'd been together, or how much George loved and depended on her. Still, they stepped up and hugged him, "I'm sure she's tough," his mother assured.

George broke down, "She is," he said shakily through giant sobs, "She just doesn't give herself enough credit,"

The hug only tightened. They all held George and even cried a little bit for Peach, until a small 'excuse me?' was heard. Pulling away, the receptionist said, "She's in room 407, she's just waking up,"

The look in his father's eyes said 'go'. In less than a moment, George was bolting down the corridors of St. Mungos. He didn't hear the towering footsteps of his family behind him. He just ran. Time stopped when the bold numbers 407 posted on the door before him. He took no time swinging the door open, when he saw what was on the other side, he could no longer feel anything.

It looked as if the blood had been sucked out of her, her pasty white complexion mixed with the white bedspread. Her once soft and dark arms were now bony, marshmallow-white arms from which thick blue veins peeked out. Her lips were a chapped pale pink and her dark brown hair seemed to have the color of a moonless midnight against her skin. Her eyes remained squeezed shut and lightly furrowed.

Her lips parted slightly and she hoarsely and extremely quietly whimpered his name. Slowly, very slowly, he approached her bedside, resting a hand on her forehead, he stroked the flaky skin that covered it. Her eyes opened slightly, and she looked at him through eyes that seemed the lightest grey next to her purpled eyelids. And with the weak smile she gave him, he fell to his knees, lightly kissing her forehead and dropping his heavy tears upon it. Her smile would always be the same, she was there, she was alive.

He sat on his knees, and for minutes, they lost themselves in silence. He lightly stroked her hair as they looked into eachother's eyes, each letting the other know they were there and weren't leaving.

"I'm right here," he whispered.

"Hey," her voice was so hoarse.

George laughed as tears rolled down his cheeks. She looked so small, so helpless. He wanted to hold her, to wrap her frail body in his arms and squeeze any fear out of it, any unhappiness or hurt. But her fragile being filled his head with the fear that she might turn to dust.

"L-Love you" she lifted her shaking hand to clasp his. George could feel every tiny bone in her palm. Leaning his head down to kiss it, she let out a tiny moan signaling she needed more. He lifted his head to look into her crying eyes. Leaning over, he kissed her, deeply, softly. Placing his free hand on her cheek, hers shakily clung to the back of his shoulders, refusing to let go. He felt her salty tears against his cheeks and let his fall freely.

"I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you. I love you so much," he gasped for breath as he said it.

"I'm so sorry. I was so stupid…should never walk alone at night…had to tell you" she cried as she kissed him.

"Don't blame yourself," He broke away, their foreheads rested against one another. He caressed her face, brushing away her salty tears, "Don't ever blame yourself."

"That's so sweet!"

George's head whipped around at Ginny's voice. His mum, dad, Ron and Ginny were standing at the foot of the bed.

George, startled, stuttered, "How long have you blokes been standing there?"

"Long enough," his mother answered, "She looks lovely by the way."

George smiled and looked back down at Peach, "She's beautiful,"

Peach smiled back and lifted her head slightly, weakly pointing a finger at his father she whispered, "Is this your dad?"

Petting her hair, George nodded.

"You look just like him!" she swooned through her quiet voice.

Peach would have had a longer meeting with George's family, if only a nurse hadn't walked in and ushered them out. Muttering something about visitation rights. George was allowed to stay, but not until Peach squeezed his hand as hard as she could, which wasn't very much, and weakly demanded that he stay. He did. He would sit by her all night. One hand holding hers while the other rested upon her chest, feeling her heartbeat, making sure it was there. If only his curiousity and confusion hadn't gotten the better of him, then he wouldn't have released his hand from hers to grab her chart. Her heart thudded steadily against his palm as he read her retelling of the horrifying event that had happened.

She had been walking down the street. When she was suddenly hit by a curse. It had obviously been a simple 'hevuay mivee' but how could Peach had known that? All she could have done was describe it. Detailing the feeling of being hit with a rock, thrown into the air, and then caught in a wind. Feeling as if she was forced underwater the whole time. Unable to breathe, she had watched the Death Eaters surround her, then suddenly feeling the cool walls of the corner she had been backed into. She had heard them utter 'crucio', and for a moment all she had heard was a silly word, before discovering the true potential of the forbidden spell. The spell faded, and she had cried, she wanted to pant for air, but felt water that wasn't there rush into her lungs every time she breathed in. She had thought they were finished, until she heard them say 'crucio' again. They tormented her for less than an hour, but she told the doctor it had seemed like days. They'd crucio her, she'd wait a brief moment for the unexplainable pain. Then it would end, and all would be quiet, she would attempt to breathe as the tears coming from her eyes dehydrated her. Then, the silence would be broken by a single voice uttering the word she dreaded so much, and it would happen again. She had cried the whole time, screaming for help, begging them to stop. They hadn't. She said she had heard calls coming from a distance, the Death Eaters had vanished, and she could breath again. She called the air 'invisible ecstacy' the last thing the report said was that she had taken in a long, full breath of air before everything went black.

George had to collect himself before reading the rest of her report. All it said of her condition was that it was too soon to tell the extent of damage done. There was only the items under the title MEDICAL HISTORY left to read. George didn't know why he read them, perhaps because he hoped the stories she had told him of her injuries from her childhood would spark a memory of a funny story she had told him. And it did, he recalled her tale of a broken nose after attempting to get back at an unfaithful boyfriend, or the time she broke her arm when showing off to her friends that she could lift two hundred pounds. George relished the fact that he knew how she had obtained every injury listed on the report, with the exception of the last one, a muggle word that he'd never seen before. Holding it at a distance, scrunching his eyes, he tried to recall if he'd ever heard his father talk about it.

"Don't."

Peach's whisper was barely audible. George's head darted down to her, her eyes blinked in the new light and tears brimmed her eyes, "I didn't want you to find out that way," she whispered.

"Find out what?" George asked.

Peach took in a deep breath, "About the abortion,"

George only stared at her, confused as she uttered the word he had read and still didn't understand, "What's an abortion?"

"Oh," Peach seemed almost relieved. Breathing deeply, she slid against the pillows so she was propped up, almost sitting, "An abortion-" her voice cracked and she breathed in deeply, quickly, and shakily. Collecting herself, she continued, "An a-abortion is when you…when you…when you're pregnant but you have a doctor stop it before the baby grows too much,"

George shot her a quizzical look, still confused.

Peach closed her eyes, a tear rolled down her cheek, "It's when you kill the baby before it's born," she said it quickly, as if wanting to rip off the band-aid quickly and painlessly, it obviously didn't work, as more and more tears flowed down her cheeks, "When I was with Daniel, I got pregnant. I didn't want the baby, he didn't believe in abortion,"

"You did?" George spurted out dumbly. He immediately regretted it, it had been the last thing he wanted to say, and Peach's eyes shot away from his as if they had suddenly become as blinding as the sun.

"Ah, I didn't know what I thought," she whispered, "Either way, I-I did it. Daniel found out and left," Peach's voice was cracking, but her confidence returned, or perhaps it was simply desperation that drove her to look back into his eyes with her weepy ones, "George, please, try to understand. I was young and stupid and now where near ready. I didn't think when I got rid of it, I just kept seeing everything I had worked for fly out the window, so I took the easy way out," her shoulders shuddered as she released the deep breath she took in, "I just didn't know it was going to be this hard!" she cried as her head crippled to her knees. Her whole body shook as her rolled up figure let go. Sniffing, wailed, gasping for breath, she became a frail animal. George wanted to take her in his arms, to rock her back and forth, to cry right along with her and tell her it was okay. But the impact of Peach's confession hadn't melted in. So he stood there, paralyzed, watching her cry.

A strand of hair fell away from her face, exposing her eye, but only a glimpse of it. That glimpse was all it took. He couldn't see the torment that danced behind her glassy eyes. He didn't need to. Here she was. The one thing he treasured more than anything in the world, the reason it was easy to wake up in the morning, she was begging for his forgiveness, trying to forgive herself, and all he did was stand there, swimming in his own confusion. And it hit him. And, he flew to her, gathering her in his arms, no longer worrying about breaking her. She was breaking herself. She was so frail that he could hold her completely in her arms like a small child. She clung to him, refusing to let go, her cold teardrops dampened his shirt and his fell into her hair. He held her closely and tightly, pressing her against his chest as her arms tightened around his back. He didn't know what else to do, so he said what he felt at that moment, "I love you, Peach. I love you. I love you. I love you. Nothing will ever, ever, ever, ever change that." He whispered it to her over and over. And she cried and cried. He never stopped holding her, not when she stopped shaking and her crying was reduced to quiet sniffs, not when she stopped crying altogether, or when her grip on him loosened and she fell asleep in his arms. He simply lay down, holding her still, feeling her body rise and fall as she breathed until he fell asleep with her.

-----------

Morning came and the sunlight bounced off the white walls of the hospital room and lit the insides of George's eyelids. His arms felt miraculously free and the reason was shown when his eyes opened to the sight of Peach lying beside him, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Leaning over he kissed her forehead, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly in response.

"Morning," he whispered.

"Morning," she whispered back.

He stroked her hair and she closed her eyes as her mouth twitched into a small smile.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Fine, just really, really weak," she whispered hoarsely.

The sound of a door opening interrupted their moment as George jumped off the bed and into the seat beside it. The sound of footsteps approached while George took Peach's hand lightly. A healer approached them.

"Hello, I'm Healer Smills. One of the healers that worked on Miss Yarin here," he said, holding his hand out to George, who shook it.

"George Weasley," he answered, "Is she going to be okay?"

The healer hesitated briefly before answering, "She's going to be incredibly weak for a month or two, so I must insist that she's on bed-rest for this first month. After that, we'll see how she's feeling. But she should definitely be back to her old self in a couple of months."

George laughed through a relieved sigh, but that ended the instant the healer's eyes dropped the way eyes always did when delivering bad news. George looked down at Peach, whose eyes looked just as terrified as the healer. The healer took a deep breath, as if bracing himself, then he spoke, "We couldn't save the baby," he said.

Peach let out a small shriek and her eyes became glassy. George would have fallen to the ground had he not been sitting down, "B-but in order to lose a baby you have to be…" he looked at Peach, who was looking up at him with sad eyes.

"I was coming to tell you," Peach said, "I really wanted to have this one…with you," she whispered.

They cried together for a long time. Holding each other and breaking down over what they could have had. Their future, that had become so suddenly and been lost just as quickly.


	17. The Tragic Effects Of Impatience

Blinking into the sunlight, the unmistakable scent of hardwood, paint, and candies crept into Peach's nose. It was the smell of George's flat. If given the energy, she would have shot up in confusion, but she could only open her eyes and turn her head to take in her surroundings. She was in George's flat, but the bed had been pushed against the window, so she could look over Diagon Alley, on the other side of the bed sat a bedside table, an easel beside it. She smiled when she saw the flower vase filled with paintbrushes. A laugh tickling her throat escaped as a short moan. And George walked into the room.

Peach smiled, "This is really sweet." She pointed to the vase.

"Thought you'd like it." George smiled as he walked over to kiss her forehead.

Peach smiled, "When did I get here?"

"Last night, bloody ministry insisted on a butt load of security to get you here," he whispered.

"Not exactly the way I expected to move in," Peach croaked.

George laughed, "Yeah." He stroked her hair and smiled at her for a few minutes before coughing and saying, "I'm glad you're talking to me again."

Peach's heart melted, "I didn't think you'd want to talk right now."

"Why? Because of the abortion? Peach, I don't care. You were in a corner and needed a way out. I understand," George assured her.

"Not about that, about the miscarriage, that was your baby in there too," Peach answered.

George looked like he was about to cry, "Peach, that wasn't your fault."

Peach looked at him with crying eyes, "I should have known better than to go out after dark. I'd just found out. I should have waited until the next day to tell you, but I was so bloody impatient. If I had just waited we would have actually had something to be exited about."

A tear rolled down her cheek. George wiped it away and told her, "Don't ever blame yourself. It wasn't your fault." Tears continued to slowly roll out of her eyes, George continued talking, his voice cracking too, "It's one thing that we lost our baby, but I-but I don't know how to get through this while I watch you torment yourself for something you didn't do."

Peach smiled through the tears and took in a quick shaky breath, "You know what?"

"What?" George ran his fingers through her hair.

"When I found out that I was pregnant with Daniel's baby, all I could see was what I had hoped my life would be. A successful artist, living with the man I loved, our whole lives ahead of us. Not a kid in sight. B-But when I found out that we were having a baby, I saw a painting."

"A painting?" George laughed a little.

Peach smiled. "Yeah, this beautiful painting, where we were on the couch a-and I was holding our baby, and you were leaning over my shoulder, making it laugh." Peach breathed deeply, "We looked so happy. I wanted it to be real so, _so_ badly."

George stroked her hair and kissed her. He began crying too, they spent hours talking all about what could have been. What they could have had.

------------------

The rest of the two months were excruciatingly painful. George had moved the bed to the window so Peach could look out of it and see the sun shine on the magical Alley they lived on. She spent much of the day painting, she didn't know what she'd have done had she not been able to paint. She poured her heart onto canvas after canvas smearing the dark shades of her heart all over what should have been art.

She and George talked a lot. They talked all about their baby, passing their feelings to the other for them to patch up. And a moment finally came when the nightmare escaped their minds, when they laughed at the overflowing toilet. Still, the spur of it ended and they remembered what they had lost. Still, another happy moment came and went. Followed by more, and soon, moments began happily, and were only sometimes spoiled by the reminder of their nightmare.

The time they watched the juggler performing on the street outside their window was one of those moments. Watching through the glass, in the comfort of George's arms, it had been such a joyous morning, but when a little girl ran out to drop a coin into the juggler's hat before hurrying back to grasp her mother's hand, their apartment went quiet. George's hold on her tightened as he whispered to her, "We'll have that, someday."

And it was because of that sentence that Peach spent her final week of bed-rest considering doing something that made her feel alone just thinking of it.

----------------

The room was still, as was Peach. She sat at the foot of the bed. Her fists squeezed and twisted the hem of her shirt with anxiety. She thought about the bed she was sitting on, and the memories it came with. She thought about the sleepless nights her and George had spent together, those nights when George would hold her so delicately, and she would know that he treasured her the way she treasured her paintings, he'd whisper to her and she'd whisper back, they would whisper sleepy conversation until they found a moment of silence, and Peach would stroke George's arm as it held her so lovingly. And then he would tickle her. He caught her off guard every time! His arm would slide across her chest and beneath her armpit, and she would open her eyes in shock and realize he had tricked her again. "George! You…" but she would to busy squirming beneath him and laughing to finish the sentence. She would eventually bring up the courage to raise her arm, leaving her armpit, which was her most sensitive area to tickling, unguarded. Upon raising her arm, she'd pinch the back of his neck, and he'd immediately surrender, she'd pull his head down to kiss him, before shoving him to one side of the bed and scooting herself to the other and turning her back to him. She'd warn him, to stay on _his_ side, he would whine, and she would continually tell him that he had greatly betrayed her trust. He would be quiet after a few minutes and she would close her eyes and try to sleep, but the distance between them would eventually drive her close to madness, and she would stick her arm out behind her and feel George's fingers interlock with hers. And so, they would fall asleep hand in hand, and she would always wake up to kisses, the kiss of the sunlight upon her face along with the kisses of George's lips, on her cheeks, eyelids, forehead, and lips. He made a point to never ruin their beautiful mornings with tickling.

The dread clawing at Peach's throat caused her to swallow the nothing that was there as she tried desperately to ban the memories that would make her plans so much harder than they already were.

The silence of the flat was abruptly and suddenly ended when George burst through the door. "I'm home!" she heard him exclaim before hearing his footsteps trot to the kitchen. "And," he continued, "In celebration of your first day completely out of bed, I have taken the liberty to put together a nice, romantic…" He walked in, carrying a tray with two plates covered by fancy lids and a small vase filled with roses. He spoke with a grin, until his eyes saw her and the smile dropped as he finished in a trance-like sentence, "…dinner in bed."

Peach stared at her feet and heard George place the tray on the bedside table. She looked up to see him staring at the suitcase beside her.

"W-What's that for?" he asked.

"I think it's rather obvious what it's for," Peach replied quietly.

"That part is obvious, I just don't understand why you'd need to use it," George replied.

Peach hesitated before answering, "We are-were…our relationship," Peach took a deep breath and started over, "It's like you're my first love, you know. We're just a pair of young lovers, passionately living our lives in endless bliss."

"And that's a bad thing?" George asked.

"It wasn't at first," Peach said, "It was amazing. It is amazing. But…I can't do it anymore."

"Why bloody not?" Tears were brimming George's eyes as he said it.

"George, there are people who'd give anything to have what we have, and I'll never want to forget what we had, not because of how beautiful it was, because now I know what I need, and what I need, you're not ready for," Peach explained.

"What do you need that I possibly couldn't be ready for?" George begged, "Peach, I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make you stay."

"I need a baby, George," Peach said, "I need to be a mother."

George looked at her, "I can give you a baby. I'd love to give you a baby. I'd love to make you a mother. I'd love to be a…"

"You'd love to give me one right now? You know right now, in this moment, that if someone handed you a little person with fiery red hair, you'd be ready?" Peach asked.

George scratched his head, "Well, no, but…"

"I'm an impatient person, George," Peach said, "I can't help it. And I can't wait around for you to be ready to be a father. Because I'm long since ready to be a mother." Peach picked up her suitcase and looked at him, "So I'm going to go become one."

"How?" George asked, "Are you seeing someone else? Someone who's ready?"

"Us muggles have special labs, where we can buy sperm from strangers." Peach explained, "I know it sounds sick, but I don't care, if it means I get a baby, then it's good with me."

Peach stood for a few minutes and looked at George, she doubted he'd understood a word she said. It seemed the only thing he knew was that she was leaving, because tears were running rapidly down his cheeks, finally, he opened his mouth and, in a squeaky voice whispered, "Please don't leave me."

That was when Peach cried. She ran over to him, hugged him, kissed him, whispered "I'll never stop loving you, never.", grabbed her suitcase, and ran back to the muggle world.


	18. A Fragment of Her Life

"You need to go," Her voice was just as sharp as the look in her eyes

"You need to go," Her voice was just as sharp as the look in her eyes.

"Please just let me talk to her," George begged.

"She doesn't want to see you," Tonnie explained.

"Can't you please just tell her I'm here?" George asked.

Tonnie sighed, "I'd really like to, George. But I've pried at her all month to go and talk to you, and I think if I mention you one more time she'll completely break down."

George muttered an acceptance of the situation and turned to walk away. He stopped and turned to Tonnie, "Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" Tonnie asked.

"Why'd you pry her to talk to me?"

Tonnie bit her lip and leaned against the doorframe, "Before Daniel, Peach didn't date much…and, after he broke her heart, all she did was date. Finding them was easy, she'd pick one up at a coffee bar or on a park bench, they'd have a few good weeks of bliss, until she'd open up to them, the second they saw how damaged she was they'd bolt," Tonnie paused, "Only you didn't," she whispered, "You've helped her so much, just by being there for her, and I know that you could only help her more by being with her now, but I she's made up her mind, and it's broken her heart, but she won't turn back."

George looked at his feet, he could feel the heavy tears building up behind his eyes, and his throat tightning, "Al-Alright then I guess," he croaked.

Tonnie's eyes held nothing but pure regret, "I'm sorry," she whispered.

And she closed the door.

--

"So, you two met, had this secret love affair, and now she's up and left?"

"I wouldn't call it a secret, I just never told you about it," George quietly explained to the small audience before him, consisting of his father, his mother, Ginny, Ron, and Harry who were all at the Burrow for the Christmas holidays.

"Did she take any money?' his father asked.

"Wha-No! Dad, it was nothing like that! She's a bloody muggle, what's she going to do with a sack of galleons!"

"Well do you have any idea why she might have left?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know…I never saw it coming. I think that losing the baby just got her thinking…"

"Baby?" the entire table echoed.

George froze. It took him a good few moments to open his clenched teeth and say, "I didn't know about until after it was gone," he inhaled shallowly, "Bloody death eaters killed it when they tried to kill her."

A heavy silence fell over the table before his mother broke it by piping up, "Did you two talk about it?"

"All the time," George answered softly, "Or at least I did, I poured my heart out about it and she didn't mention the fact that she wanted to have one until she was halfway out the door."

"_That's_ why she left?" Ron exclaimed.

"I don't understand why, I kept telling her I was up for it, but that didn't seem to change one bloody thing," George explained.

"Well no wonder!" scoffed Ginny.

"Ginny!" Scolded her mother.

"What's that supposed to mean?" George shot at Ginny.

"Well, it is pretty obvious you're not exactly father material," Ginny explained.

George almost immediately turned to his mother, waiting for her to scold Ginny yet again for her second cruel comment in less than one minute.

Mrs. Weasley was quick to understand the nature of George's stare and simply replied with, "She does have a point."

"What!?" George exclaimed.

"George, did you want a baby for the baby, or so she would stay?" his mother asked calmly.

George looked down and mumbled a few incoherent sentences.

"She's going through a lot, and I highly doubt it's the right time for her to have a baby. But that's her life, and you'll have to accept that you're not a part of it anymore," His mother explained.

"But I want to be a part of it," George whispered, "I want to be a part of it for the rest of my life."

"But you can't," His mother whispered. In the silence that followed, she looked at the clock and exclaimed, "Well, I think it's time we all turn in for the night!"

The occupants of the table shifted and began to move groggily towards the stairs.

"You sleeping here tonight?" Ron called to George.

"Guess so," mumbled George.

--

George lay awake in his bed for a good few hours, he went over his and Peach's entire relationship, trying to pinpoint how he could have kept her. He reminisced of happy times they had shared together. Lastly he pondered on what she was doing at that very moment, she might have been watching 'teevee', maybe she was sleeping in her bed in the loft of Tonnie's flat, or perhaps she was simply lying awake, missing him like he was missing her.


	19. Anniversary

The enormous number of customers filling up any elbow-room in the joke shop blocked George's view of the clock

The enormous number of customers filling up any elbow-room in the joke shop blocked George's view of the clock. It had to be close to four thirty, and it would definitely take more than a half hour to empty the shop. He needed to be at the platform at five to meet Ginny, coming home for the Christmas holidays.

--

"It's about time!" Ginny screamed as she ran towards George and jumped into his arms, "I've been home for an hour!"

"Sorry, it took forever to get the shop cleared, I ended up needing to blast a Bad Breath Bomb to get them all to hurry," George explained.

"I'm not sympathizing with you, _we've_ been busy cooking…spaghetti…with Ron…we just finished cleaning the sauce off the ceiling!"

--

The spaghetti was finally served, stories were told, and small Quidditch matches were played. Soon, it was time to call it a night, and George lay awake, dreading tomorrow, the day that would mark a year since the last time he'd seen Peach, except for a day some months ago when he'd seen a figure through a dirty window that may or may not have been her. It had been a summer afternoon and he'd been in Muggle London in a café with his father, who was entranced by the X-press-oh machine, when a flash of brown hair outside the dusty window caught his eye. The woman moved to fast for him to catch a sure glimpse of her face, but she had the same haircut and the same fair skin. She hadn't gained back the weight she'd lost after the attack, if anything she'd lost more. She walked down the sidewalk and passed the bus stop where they'd first met. He'd remembered that time so long ago when he'd seen her running towards that bus stop, and attempting to look normal after she saw him. To George, she had given the impression that if you knew her for two minutes you knew her like the back of your hand. What time had shown them! If only they had known of the long story ahead of them. The woman ultimately turned a corner and left George's eyesight. George held himself back, knowing that if Fred were there, he would have pushed him out the door and carried him to her if that was what it took. No, Fred would have more likely one something actually ridiculously brilliant and hilarious, and gone up to her pretending to be George. George had quietly smirked about the idea while sitting still and letting the woman that may have been the girl he loved like no other girl in the world, or just a passerby, walk further and further away.

Either way, life had moved on. It was Christmastime, Ginny's last one before finishing Hogwarts. Harry was living with Andromeda so he could take care of Teddy while working on his auror's license. Ron, naturally, still lived at home while working on his own auror's licence. Fleur had swelled up like a balloon and was expecting to give birth to her and Bill's first child in two months. And Hermione was finishing her final year at Hogwarts.

Life had moved on.

He had stopped thinking about her, excluding nights like this, when he'd lay awake, wishing she was beside him, or sometimes during days when something would remind him of her and he'd wonder where she was, walking down the street carrying a baby that didn't have red hair like his.

--

Today would be different, though. It all started at the breakfast table on December 23rd, when Mrs. Weasley announced the agenda for the next two days that would lead up to a beautiful Christmas day, to her husband, sons Percy, Ron, Charlie, and George, and daughter Ginny.

"So, Hermione's decided to bring her parents here for Christmas, and she wants to meet us in Diagon Alley tonight. Bill and Fleur are arriving sometime tomorrow, and Harry's bringing Andromeda and Teddy over tomorrow as well."

There was a quiet clank of glass on wood at the mention of Harry, heads turned to see Ginny fix the toppled over glass beside her hand.

"You'll probably have to get Hermione without me, I'm most likely gonna keep the shop open late tonight, but I'll be here when you all get back," George stated.

"Alright" the table chanted.

And like that, fate was sealed.

--

George closed down the shop around seven, when their finally wasn't a single customer in the shop. He turned off the lights and apparated to the Burrow. Where he read the Daily Prophet, then worked on a few new inventions, perfected them, and picked up the Quibbler. He had just finished the first paragraph when there was a knock on the door. The floorboards didn't squeak and his feet didn't thud against the floor when he walked to the door, yet, when he opened it, all seemed a new kind of silent.

"Hi," she said.


End file.
